We Dance Alone Tonight
by Wordwalker
Summary: Mack and Quinn have moved to New York together, years after the end of high school. But life isn't perfect.
1. Chapter 1

Lights, city lights, stretched out across the earth like a landscape of stars - the universe spread in pinpricks upon the ground. Quinn gazed at them from her window, absorbed by the sight, by the static beauty. She didn't hear the footsteps approach from behind her. Her heart leapt into her throat when a pair of lithe arms wrapped around her middle, and a chuckle resounded in her ear. It was followed by a quick kiss placed on her cheek, and then a chin resting on her shoulder.

"Jesus, Mack, I thought I told you not to scare me like that," Quinn whispered with fury brought on by surprise. She could feel Mack smile into her neck as she placed another kiss on Quinn.

"Beautiful view," the girl said, the two of them returning their stares to the incandescent, artificial stars. "And the lights are pretty too," continued Mack, earning an elbow in the ribs and a groan of dismay followed by a giggle from Quinn. The girl leant back further into her arms and Mack tightened her grip, savouring the feel of the warm body against her own. She looked out at the city, letting her eyes wander from building to building, pausing briefly to wonder what the people behind those windows were doing, what their lives were like; a girl sitting down with a book and a steaming mug of tea after a long day, a family dinner, the nervous boyfriend being introduced to the parents for the first time, a couple arguing about forgetting to buy cat food, a sign of the instability in their relationship, while in the apartment above them, a couple make love, experts in the needs of the other's body. Doused in darkness, with the light from their own apartment off, Mack felt more connected to life as she imagined it, the lights burning brighter than they would have if their own had been on. She let out a little sigh, turning her attention to the finger she was running along the length of Quinn's arm. She could see the fine, blonde hairs illuminated from the soft glow of the city, prickling up as the tip of her finger disturbed them. Abruptly, Quinn spoke into the silence surrounding them.

"I can't believe it's been six years since we graduated high school," she said, her voice soft and gentle, and Mack was reminded that there was still the dreamer in Quinn, still the person who loved to lie on her back and stare at the clouds as they drifted by, smudging the blue sky, or at night, the stars. Only, Mack realised with a pang, they lived in New York, there weren't any stars, only the constant artificial lights. That's why she spent so much time staring out the window. That's why she'd insisted on buying an apartment with a room that had a ceiling to floor wall of glass over looking the city. It didn't bother either of them that the room with such a window was their bedroom.

"I can. I just can't believe Damien's grown up so fast," she responded quietly, "you'd think if I could believe high school was six years ago, that I would be able to accept that my son is getting older, but I can't."

"It's the same with Beth. She's bigger and bigger every time I see her," Quinn said, the sadness in her voice touching Mack's heart and massaging the tender spot she had for Quinn. She started rubbing small, light circles on the back of the other girl's hand.

"I still can't get over the fact that we both have kids the same age."

"Except Damien's more my child than Beth is," muttered Quinn. Mack's heart quivered. She wanted nothing more than to kiss Quinn until all her bitterness was gone, sucked from her like poison from a wound. Instead, she hugged tighter.

"You still see Beth. I know it's not the same, but you gave her up, after all," she gently reminded her girlfriend. Quinn sighed; Mack could feel the blast of breath on her arm, rifling the hair there.

"I can't help thinking that it was stupid of me. I could have provided for her. Maybe not right away, but look at us now. We could easily support another child," said Quinn. Mack stood there, helpless as she held her girlfriend. Her soul ached, her entire being wished she could make things better, but Quinn was untouchable in her sadness. So she held on tighter, afraid of losing Quinn to the self pity which threatened to drown her. Things had always been this way, ever since they met in high school, crossing paths in the misleadingly pristine halls of McKinley. They would be happy, their relationship was fine, but sometimes Quinn would withdraw into herself, into all the feelings which flowed beneath the surface; and Mack was left unable to do anything except hope that Quinn would come back from her dark place. She loved Quinn beyond measure, more than she ever thought she could lover another person who was not her child, and she dared not imagine a world without the girl wrapped in her arms, staring absently out the window at the city that never slept.

"I'm sorry we can't get her back for you," she mumbled into Quinn's shoulder. Quinn shook her head.

"I'm not. I tried that once, back in high school. But I realised I was making a huge mistake. I wouldn't have been doing the right thing by Beth, taking her from her place of safety, from a mother who loved her. I would've destroyed her trust in me, in people, in the system. She probably would've grown up terrified that people were going to screw her over. I would've ruined her life," she said, "Shelby's life too," she added as an afterthought.

"Then it's probably a good thing it all turned out the way it did."

"I suppose," Quinn agreed, shrugging. She turned her head to look at Mack in the iridescent glow filtering through the window. "I'm going to see her tomorrow. Shelby invited me over. Would you like to come?" Taken aback, Mack nodded.

"Sure. I have to drop Damien at school first, but sure, I'd love to come see Beth with you," she acquiesced, surprised by the invitation. Quinn always liked to go alone to see her daughter - it was their special time; Mack was honoured that she was being asked along. A thought slid into her mind. "Won't Beth be at school?"

"No," Quinn shook her head, "Shelby's going to take her out for the day. She thinks it's healthy for a child to miss school every now and then, and our going to see them is as good a reason as any."

Mack nodded, but kept her mouth shut. She didn't think taking a child out of school for something that could easily be done on a weekend was wise, but each to their own. She wouldn't let Damien miss out on school. In fact, she'd done her utmost to instil in her son the idea that education was important, and that the best thing he could do for himself was to go and learn. In high school, it was never a value she thought she'd hold, but when she graduated and found that no one wanted to hire a teenage mother with grades so low that no college would take her, she realised the importance of school, regretting that she'd missed so much of it in favour for drugs and alcohol and meaningless hook-ups. She never wanted Damien to do the same. She, like any mother, wanted the best for her child, and the best for him, she'd eventually come to realise, was for him to be educated, to go to college, and to eventually get a job which ensured financial security. It didn't mean she wanted him to work himself to the bone to be rich - that was overshooting the mark - but she wanted him to be well off enough that he would never have the risk of bankruptcy hanging over his head. She wanted him to be happy.

"Is Damien in bed?" Quinn asked, breaking into Mack's thoughts. She nodded. Quinn, turning herself around in Mack's grip, smiled mischievously at her, "then maybe it's time we went too."

Mack instantly felt soft, familiar lips against her own, quietly desperate, seeking, forever seeking. With Quinn's hands gently pushing at either side of Mack's hips, the two of them staggered, collapsing onto the bed when the back of Mack's knees came into contact with the mattress. Aware that they were not rushed, they took their time, leaving languid kisses on each other's lips and necks and collarbones. Slowly, ever so slowly, pieces of clothing came off; here a top, there a pair of pants, eventually, the underwear, until it was bare flesh against bare flesh, reflecting the blue and yellow lights which crept into the room from the window.

Mack knew Quinn, she knew how sometimes the girl liked it rough, dirty, mixing pain with her pleasure. But she also knew conversations like the one they'd just had put Quinn into a state of melancholia; at these times, Quinn wanted love, to be shown that she meant something to someone, that her entire life was not a mistake. So, with slow deliberation, Mack placed gentle kisses along Quinn's chest, over her breasts, running her tongue delicately over rose bud nipples, listening to the almost inaudible sounds of Quinn's pleasure. That was the thing about Quinn, she was quiet, not at all vocal, even at the roughest of times. Mack had to learn to identify the signs of her body, the little indications which gave away all of Quinn's feelings, and soon, she learnt the best ways to pleasure her. Mack started trailing her lips south again, kissing, running her tongue over the smooth flesh, never nipping at the skin with her teeth - not tonight. She ran a hand up Quinn's thigh, letting her fingers barely caress the skin. Quinn's breathing became laboured.

Quinn's whole body shuddered when Mack's tongue finally slid over her clitoris. She let out a little huff of air. Mack let her tongue drag along the same place, feeling warmth growing between her own legs as Quinn's hips bucked with the contact. She kissed the spot, before sucking lightly, almost smiling when she saw Quinn's fingers claw at the sheets, balling them in her fists. Slowly, teasingly, Mack traced a single finger up the inside of Quinn's thigh, loving the tremble that went through the blonde girl. Finding the wet lips, she eased her index finger inside of Quinn, letting it pause there for a fraction of a second before removing it and sliding it in again. She moved her head up, watching Quinn and she built up a steady rhythm with her fingers. On the fourth thrust, she added a second finger. Quinn's jaw clenched and her stomach muscles tightened. Mack massaged the sensitive spot with the palm of her hand, simultaneously working her fingers in and out of her girlfriend. Bending forward, she peppered Quinn's thighs and taught stomach with kisses, slow, wet, expressive. Over and over again she left kisses on Quinn. Over and over again she said I love you, in the language of the body, until finally, with one final tightening of the stomach, the whitening of the knuckles on her clenched fists and the quivering of her legs, Quinn came, her entire body releasing its tension all at once. Mack watched it all in the city light. Slithering her body up, she placed a kiss on Quinn's dry lips.

"I love you," the blonde girl murmured and Mack kissed her again. She lay down next to Quinn, tucking her arm in over the other girl, drawing her close. Quinn went to escape, to trail her fingers down Mack's torso, but she stopped her.

"Not tonight," Mack whispered, "tonight's about you."

They lay there, bodies warm, intertwined, resting - drifting off into sleep. At least, Quinn was. When she was sure Quinn was as dead to the world as could be, her breathing deep and slow, Mack extracted herself from her girlfriend. Running a hand down her own body, and biting her lip to silence herself, she finished what she wouldn't let Quinn do. Finally, she pulled the thick curtains shut, closing off the artificial universe, and crawled back into bed, falling asleep almost instantly, with her arms holding Quinn near.


	2. Chapter 2

Mack's hands twitched, her right hand gripping her left index finger, knuckles white. The soft skin of her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. She shifted from foot to foot, and her eyes darted from the increasing numbers above the elevator doors to the richly carpeted floor. A pale hand placed itself over her tightly wound ones, gentle and assuring.

"Beth's going to love you," Quinn soothed, extracting Mack's finger from the vice grip of her own right hand. Mack sighed, her eyes seeking the reassurance written all over Quinn's face, persuading her to relax.

"Are you sure?" she fretted. The corner of Quinn's mouth curved upwards, a mixture of love and amusement.

"I'm sure," she nodded, and leant forward to place a kiss on Mack's brow. Mack squared her shoulders; if Quinn said that Beth was going to like her, then she was probably right. Now all she had to worry about was Shelby also approving of her; it was one thing to woo over the daughter, and quite another to do the same with the mother. Her gaze slid away from Quinn and to the mirror behind her, to the infinite number of reflections of herself gazing back, nervous and unprepared. She glanced to her other side and saw those same infinite reflections staring back, biting identical lips. None of them felt ready to meet Shelby and Beth Corcoran.

The elevator came to a stomach wrenching stop, and Mack was briefly reminded of Isaac Newton and a class in high school with a teacher talking over the students about something called inertia. Mack hadn't known what inertia was; after high school and a year of going nowhere, she finally discovered the dictionary and looked it up, and found that she now had a word to describe this feeling of her stomach lurching. As they stepped out of the confined space and into the narrow corridor, she felt that she had left her stomach behind completely. Her heart knocked loudly against her ribcage, and she was forced to wonder why she'd even agreed to come in the first place. Visits like today's were Quinn and Beth's special time; she was never invited along. Quinn, still holding her hand, noticed her anxiety and gently squeezed a reassurance. The action calmed Mack's racing heart, but didn't quell the feelings of doubt.

When Quinn rapped sharply on the door to Shelby's apartment, Mack steeled herself, taking deep breaths and seeking the calm she knew she possessed, trapped somewhere beneath the crawling, writhing layers of fear. She wasn't going to let that woman know that she intimidated her. Expecting the same woman who, years ago, had glared at her across the school corridors, she was surprised to find that Shelby was smiling when she opened the door, genuinely happy to see them.

She and Quinn kissed each other's cheeks in greeting. Mack stood behind them, gazing at the floor, shifting her weight from side to side, just as she had in the elevator. She glanced up to see Shelby smiling at her.

"Come in, come in! Don't be shy. Quinn's told me all about you!" the older woman encouraged, and took a step back, inviting Mack in. "It's a pleasure to see you again. It's been such a long time," she was saying as Mack awkwardly shuffled her way inside. She stood there for a moment, unsure whether she ought to shake her host's hand, or whether she should continue standing there as she was, even though she knew it was the height of rudeness to do so. But Shelby solved the problem, taking Mack into a warm embrace. Suddenly, Mack felt her nervousness seeping out of her, ebbing as Shelby accepted her into her home. When they broke apart, she offered a smile to the other woman.

"How've you been? How has Beth been?" Quinn was asking, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on the coat stand as though she was well accustomed to the gesture. She then took Mack's and placed it beside her own.

"We've been great. You should see her, she's so excited, she's practically been bouncing off the walls all morning. You know how she gets when you come over. And when she heard you were bringing someone along, well, she was practically untameable," Shelby laughed, the love for her daughter colouring her words. Quinn was smiling that half smile of hers, and even Mack found herself amused. "Oh, let me call her," said Shelby, and raising her voice, called her daughter's name. A second later came the patter of feet and a small figure barrelled out into the small foyer and right into Quinn's arms. Quinn lifted her and spun her, their heads so close together that Mack had trouble determining which blonde hair belonged to whom. She smiled at the sight, affection for her girlfriend warming her entire body, radiating from her chest to the top of her head and to the tip of her toes. Unexpectedly, she felt the same rush of affection for the young girl being placed back on the ground, similar, but slightly less than the affection she felt for her own son.

"Hey, there's someone I want you to meet," Quinn said, grabbing Beth's hand and guiding her to face Mack. Beth's eyes went wide as they took in Mack in her faded black jeans and tight tank top. "Beth, this is Mack, and she's someone very important to me," Quinn introduced. Mack knelt so she was eye to eye with the blonde girl. She extended her hand.

"Hi there. It's nice to meet you. You know, Quinn talks about you all the time, but she never said you were shy," Mack smiled, and Beth, pinks colouring a pale pink, took Mack's proffered hand and shook. "Don't worry, she only says good things," Mach whispered, as though imparting a huge secret that she didn't want anyone else to hear. Beth grinned at her.

"Do you live with Quinn? She said once that she lived with another girl and her little boy. Was that you?" Beth asked, all innocence, stunning everybody. Quinn laughed and Mack nodded.

"Yep! That's me alright. I have a son about your age."

"Gosh, Beth, I can't believe you even remember that. I must have told you that a long time ago," Quinn exclaimed in wonder.

"This one's got a long memory. Careful what you tell her or it might come back to haunt you," Shelby smiled, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Mack got to her feet, suppressing a groan as the muscles in her calves protested.

"Is he here?" Beth asked, peering around Mack's legs, expecting to see the fabled son now that she had met his mother, but when Mack shook her head, Beth's face fell a little. Mack's heart went out to her; it looked like she was expecting a playmate with this visit. But just as soon as the disappointment came, it disappeared. "That's ok!" she said brightly, "Quinn's fun, and if Quinn lives with you, then you must be fun too! Quinn would never live with a boring person."

As Beth bounced on ahead of them to the living room, Mack raised her eyebrows at Quinn. Quinn, in return gave a modest shrug, but Mack could tell from the wrinkling of her chin that she was trying to suppress a smile. She was proud of her girlfriend; she had finally formed a strong bond with her biological child, not something that most mothers who gave up their kids for adoption could boast, especially not ones who were sixteen when they gave birth. Quinn made a grab for Mack's hand, and her fingers settled in the spaces between Mack's own. She swung their arms cheerily as they followed Shelby and Beth into the living room.

They both stopped short when they entered, hands slipping from each other's grasp. Mack felt Quinn go tense, even as she herself let out a tiny, almost inaudible gasp. Before them, a small brunette girl turned to face them, a smile lighting up her face.

"Quinn!" the girl exclaimed. Mack's stomach clenched in jealousy as the girl embraced Quinn. To her benefit, Quinn only awkwardly patted the other girl on the back with one hand. They parted and the girl turned her attention to Mack. "And Mackenzie! It's such a surprise to see you again. How have you been?"

"Rachel," Mack responded, forcing a smile as she shook Rachel's proffered hand. The small girl's hand felt warm in hers, uncomfortably so.

"Rachel unexpectedly stopped by earlier," Shelby explained, her voice holding just a hint of an apology, which Mack thought, was ridiculous; Rachel was her biological daughter. It was no more something she should apologise for than Quinn should for coming to see Beth. With the five of them in the room, Mack realised she was outside of their complex weave of family ties, at least as far as blood went.

"I was in the neighbourhood, and thought I'd pop in to say hi. It's been a while," Rachel smiled. Beth, still bouncing up and down on the balls of her bare feet in excitement, came and tugged insistently on Rachel's skirt.

"I wanna hear the rest of your story!"

"Oh, ok. C'mon and sit down then," Rachel said, taking Beth by the hand and leading her to the couch. Quinn and Mack followed, unsure. As they settled themselves down, Mack noticed that the television was on, flickering technicolour images in silence, the mute symbol glowing in the corner. She stared at the screen blankly for a few moments, until Rachel's voice brought her back to the room, and she turned her head to stare at the girl. She had made herself comfortable in the centre of the sofa, and Beth sat to her right, watching her expectantly.

"Well?" she demanded impatiently in a high pitched voice.

"Beth! Don't be rude," Shelby admonished, but Rachel laughed.

"Well, where was I? Oh yeah, I remember. So, I was in the doctor's room, feeling really, really nervous, and very sore. My nose was still broken and it hurt very much. And Quinn was there, flicking through the magazines in the waiting room, and it made me even more nervous" Rachel said, causing both Mack and Quinn to start. Mack raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Quinn. Rachel turned to her, "do you remember? We were there at the rhinoplasty surgeon's office and you sat there like it was the most comfortable place in the world, while I spent the whole time hoping that I wasn't going to vomit from nerves. Quinn was very cool," Rachel confided to Beth, who grinned at her biological mother. "Anyway, the doctor came out and I said I wanted to know what I would look like with Quinn's nose, so he set us up and took some photos. It was very cool to see them put Quinn's nose on my face, but a little weird. When I showed the photos to the glee club, they all said I looked too different."

"And then what did you do?" Beth asked, breathless.

"And then I decided they were right. I had to be happy with the way I looked, and stop pretending that it mattered to people, because it didn't."

"You didn't use Quinn's nose?"

"Nope. My nose is 100% my own," Rachel grinned and Beth smiled back.

"That's so cool! You were gonna let Rachel have your nose?" Beth asked, turning to Quinn, who looked extremely uncomfortable. She nodded.

"Sure. She wanted it, so I said yes," she shrugged.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"But why?"

"Why?" Quinn repeated, taken aback, "I don't know. Because people should do what they think is going to make them happy, and Rachel thought that having my nose was going to make her happy. So I said yes."

"Why did you want Quinn's nose?" Beth said, turning back to stare at Rachel with her wide blue eyes.

"Um, oh, because Quinn was very pretty and the only girl I thought would say yes. And she did. And she still is very pretty," Rachel replied, looking over Beth's head and meeting Quinn's eyes. Mack flushed in anger. Her hand clenched into a fist at her side. Quinn broke the eye contact, shifting slightly further away from Rachel and closer to Mack. The anger settled down to a simmer.

"But it's probably a good thing you didn't go through with it," Quinn added, after clearing her throat. Rachel nodded.

"You're right. It wasn't until we sang together that I really decided that it wouldn't be the best decision I'd ever made. Our duet really changed things. A lot of things," Rachel said, shooting a half smile at Quinn, while next to her, Mack fought the urge to grab Quinn and march out of the apartment. The day was not at all going as she'd imagined.

"Not for me."

"Oh. Well, it did for me. You'd never opened up before the way you did that day. Who knew, Quinn Fabray was vulnerable after all. It was strangely moving. No wonder it took so much convincing to convince you to sing with me in front of the whole glee club."

"What did you sing?" Beth interrupted, tugging on Quinn's sleeve. Quinn broke her eye contact with Rachel and stared down at the small blonde girl who stared back at her with wide blue eyes full of curiosity. Quinn didn't even have to struggle to remember.

"A mash up of I Feel Pretty from the musical West Side Story and-"

"I know West Side Story! Rachel made me watch it," Beth interjected, flashing a grin at Rachel and then at Shelby, who smiled back. "It was good."

"We sang I Feel Pretty from that, and Unpretty. We turned them into one song," explained Quinn when Beth turned her attention back to her.

"Actually, Quinn turned them into one song. I just helped her hit all the right notes," Rachel corrected, earning another glare from Mack, which she ignored. "She was the best in the glee club for mashing songs up. None were as good as hers."

Mack clenched her teeth, grinding them against one another, trying to drown out the flirtatious edge in Rachel's voice. In a burst of spite, Mack wound her arm into Quinn's and kissed her on the shoulder.

"Yep. That's Quinn, the best at what she does. It's little wonder that she's was the only student in her class who got offered a job as a record producer. It's only been two years since she graduated, but she's one of the most sought after producers in the industry," she elaborated, talking to Beth, but watching Rachel out of the corner of her eye. As she did, she noticed an expression of anger, or perhaps contempt, flit across her face before she settled back into a smile. Mack spared a thought for her acting, hoping she was better at that than masking her true emotions. Maybe that's why she hadn't been cast in any major productions yet, she silently mused.

"What's a producer?" Beth asked.

"Someone who supervises the recording of an artist's songs in the studio. And then I listen to the music and make sure that it fits all my requirements, otherwise we can't put it onto the album. Sometimes I write some of the music. Most of the time I correct the little things to make it better," Quinn explained to her. Beth's eyes grew wider.

"Cool! Mom can I be that when I grow up?"

"Sure honey, you can be whatever you like when you grow up, as long as you're happy," Shelby laughed, making Beth grin.

"Oh, well, there goes my attempt at getting her into musical theatre," Rachel said in mock hurt, throwing up her hands in defeat. Beside her, Mack could feel Quinn shake with laughter. She herself didn't laugh, but managed a small smile. She could never think of trying to force Damien into a particular profession. The thought was unsavoury, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. At least Shelby seemed reasonable. Mack didn't want to think about what kind of things Rachel would subject her children to, if she had any. And Beth, she was still just a child, eight years old, the same as Damien; she had no clear idea of what she wanted to do yet. Let her dream.

Her thoughts drifted to Damien. She wished she was spending the day with him, rather than here with this convoluted little family. She loved Quinn, and was completely willing to get to know Beth, but having Rachel there, especially when she was flirting with Quinn, was infuriating her beyond measure. She was trying to resist picturing herself knocking the other girl's teeth down her own throat. A nudge in her ribs brought Mack back to the reality of Rachel sitting diagonally across from her, and four pairs of eyes laid questioningly on her.

"Sorry?"

"Shelby just asked you how Damien was," Quinn prodded, her voice gentle.

"He's very well, thank you. At school today, hopefully learning something useful. I'm looking forward to hopefully not getting another complaint from his teacher today when I pick him up," she answered, surprising herself with her own honesty.

"Like mother like son?" Rachel inquired, probably intending it to be passed off as a joke, but with the mood Mack was in, the comment cut right through any filter she might have had, and presented itself as an insult. It was probably meant as one, she mentally reasoned.

"No, actually," she replied, staring Rachel straight in the eye, "he prefers to take books to read during class because he finds the lessons too simple. The school won't push him up a grade, even though he's too advanced for his classes, so he reads, and his teacher doesn't like that. Occasionally she complains to me. Honestly," she continued, breaking her eye contact with Rachel, so it seemed less of an attack and more of a general address of her comment, "I've never seen a child read so much. I'm proud of him."

"That's great. I wish Beth would read more," Shelby commiserated, mock glaring at Beth who grinned at her. Shooting a quick glance at Rachel, Mack was happy to see that the other girl at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed; she seemed to be studying her hands with some intent.

"You just have to find the right kind of story," Mack advised, "and then you'll have trouble getting her to stop."

"You're being too modest," Quinn nudged Mack, "it probably has something to do with the fact that you used to read him bedtime stories every night. He's grown addicted to them. Not that it's a bad addiction, of course. I'm just saying that you should credit yourself more than you do."

"You helped," Mack reminded, smiling at her, "You were always trawling the bookshops trying to find something you thought he'd like. He's more indebted to you for his reading habit than me."

Quinn gave a modest shrug.

"If you can suggest something for that little devil over there next to you, I'll be more than willing to hear it," said Shelby.

"Sure! Maybe I'll ask Damien what he would recommend, and have Quinn bring it over next time she visits."

"I'm so sorry," Rachel chimed in, tapping her watch, "I actually have to be in Harlem for an audition at one, which means I have go. Thanks for having me, Shelby, it was nice. And you," she said, kneeling down to be eye level with Beth, "promise you'll be good for your mom," waiting till she got a nod from the girl before rising. "Quinn, it was nice seeing you again. Mack," she added, nodding in her direction. After a final hug from Quinn and Beth, Shelby led Rachel out. Mack felt the pressure in her chest subside. She hadn't even realised how taught she was until she didn't have to be anymore. She took a deep breath, revelling in the way the air filled her lungs. When they settled back down on the sofa, Quinn leant into her, pressing her back into her side. Mack breathed in the scent of her girlfriend's hair, so familiar. She wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. With Rachel gone, it was like all the cold had leeched from the room and she was just starting to feel warm and comfortable.

They spent another hour happily in Shelby's apartment. Most of it was spent with Quinn pottering on the floor with Beth as they played a game of princesses and knights, Beth trying to save Quinn from the clutches of the evil dragon, whom they quickly dubbed Mack, so she swooped around, chasing Beth as she giggled and made a dash to hide beneath the dining table or behind the sofa. It was like being transported back to being ten years old again. Once Mack had conveniently been distracted long enough staring at her hoarded treasure, Beth having insisted that all dragons had treasure, she, the little blonde knight, made running jump over the sofa, and with her mother's reprimands following her, rescued damsel Quinn from dragon Mack's lair. She made a celebratory run around the living room, yelling her success at the top of her voice, ignoring Shelby's pleas for her to keep quiet. In an effort to appease Shelby, Quinn grabbed Beth up, cutting off the yells.

"Shhh, you hear that?" Quinn said, her voice low, and Beth leaned in, knowing with the intuition of a child that a great secret was about to be imparted. "Do you know what that is?" Beth shook her head, the anticipation oozing from her almost tangible. "It's the sound of New York telling me that it's time I took Mackenzie home," Quinn whispered, "or else the monsters of the city will eat me."

"There are monsters in New York?" Beth exclaimed, breathless. Her eyes were two round orbs, bulging in their sockets. Quinn nodded.

"Oh yes, of course there are," she said solemnly. "You hear the noise of the traffic?" They paused, listening, and sure enough the sounds of traffic filtered in to fill the tense silence of the apartment. "It's not actually traffic, it's the sound of the monsters' stomachs grumbling. They're very hungry," Quinn finished, adding a tiny quaver to her voice.

"But then they grumble all the time," Beth pointed out. Quinn nodded again, smiling her half smile at Beth.

"That's because I never get Mack home late. I don't want the monsters to eat us."

Beth nodded vehemently to show that she understood. Quinn put her back down and Beth gave Quinn's legs a small shove.

"Go! I don't want to monsters to get you or Mack. I like you too much!" she said, looking from Quinn to Mack and back again. Shelby laughed and began leading them to the door.

"Thanks for having us," Mack said as Quinn got their coats. Shelby waved away the thanks.

"It was a pleasure. It's nice to have someone else entertain Beth for a little while. She's such a handful sometimes. I love her to bits, but she has this inexhaustible energy I just can't keep up with all the time."

"I understand, I really do," Mack sympathised.

"Of course. Sometimes I forget your son is the same age. I bet he's a handful too."

"He's not so bad," Quinn said, "he's more quiet than Beth. More prone to sit and read or draw, that sort of thing. We play with him sometimes, but he's quite happy to be left alone some of the time. Unlike this one," she grinned, putting a hand on Beth's head.

"They're all different," Shelby agreed.

"You're supposed to be going," Beth said, accusatory. Her eyes were narrowed at Quinn. Quinn shrugged guiltily.

"I am! I promise! Look, I'm helping Mack into her coat."

"Make sure Quinn doesn't get eaten by monsters on the way home," Beth urged Mack, worry lacing her voice. Mack took Beth's small hand, surprised at the smallness of it in her own.

"I promise. Nothing will touch Princess Quinn while I'm around," she swore.

"Or you'll turn into a scary dragon and chase them?"

"Exactly. I'll turn into a scary dragon. Then they'll give her back, safe and sound," Mack assured. Beth tugged at her pants, even though Mack was already paying attention to her. Momentarily confused, she realised what Beth wanted when she tugged a second time. Getting to her knees, she ducked her head close to the blonde girl's. Beth cupped her hands to her mouth and brought it to Mack's ear.

"I'm glad you're the one who loves Quinn and that Quinn loves you," she whispered, her breath collected in a thin coat of moisture on Mack's outer ear. Taken aback that Beth had picked up on the depth of her and Quinn's relationship so quickly, Mack nevertheless hid it and turned to her, lowering her own voice to a small whisper.

"And I'm glad Quinn has someone who loves her as much as you do to keep her safe."

Just as she went to clamber back to her feet, Beth, grabbed her into a hug. Surprised, Mack quickly recovered and wrapped her arms around her. She was close enough now to find that she smelt vaguely like Quinn. Like mother like daughter, she silently mused. It made her love Beth a little more than she already did.

"Now go. And don't get eaten by monsters, or I'll have to come and rescue you!" Beth proclaimed, much to the three women's amusement.

"You know, she's going to be obsessed with New York's monsters now, until the next time you come over and tell her another parting story. Oh well," Shelby sighed, "hopefully that's the last I get to hear about the fairies in Central Park."

Quinn shot her an apologetic smile before bending down to pull Beth into a hug. And then, with one final round of goodbyes, she and Mack left, spilling out into the city streets to hail a taxi. They spent most of the short journey in silence; Quinn didn't need to confirm with Mack that the visit had gone well. It wasn't until they had hung up their coats in their own apartment that Quinn brought up the visit at all.

"I'm sorry about Rachel being there. I had no idea. I mean, I should have expected that she'd be in to see Shelby now that they both live in New York, but I've never bumped into her there. I never gave a thought to it, actually. It took me by surprise too. I'm so sorry it had to happen today," she apologised to Mack. Mack felt her jealousy stir back to life in her chest. Acting nonchalant, she took Quinn's face in her hands, cupping it gently, and brought her lips to meet Quinn's. Quinn pressed her lips hard onto Mack's, and tangled one hand in her dark hair, the other dropping to wrap around Mack's waist, bringing her close enough that their stomachs and hips collided. Caught by surprise, Mack was stunned into submission, giving entry into her mouth when Quinn's tongue sought it, tracing around her bottom lip before flicking up to meet Mack's.

Quinn pushed and the two of them moved backwards, still attached, heading for the vague direction of the bedroom. But not being able to manoeuvre properly, Quinn ended up pushing Mack hard into the doorframe. Mack let out a little huff of air, and Quinn moved her mouth, kissing, nipping, sucking along the side of Mack's jaw, and then down her exposed throat. She settled sucking a spot on Mack's protruding collarbone. Mack moaned. Using the doorpost as support, she jumped, wrapping her legs around Quinn's waist. She felt Quinn groan into her collarbone. She wrapped one arm under Quinn's arm and gripped her shoulder from behind, while her other hand clawed into the blonde hair. Quinn's mouth found hers again. Stumbling a little, Quinn propelled them both into the room and threw Mack onto the bed. As soon as they parted contact, they began ripping at their clothes, discarding them wherever they fell, not caring about anything but each other.

As soon as Quinn's body touched hers, covering it, Mack gasped, her hips bucking upwards. She swung one leg over Quinn's back, pinning Quinn to her. Now Quinn avoided kissing Mack's lips, paying proper attention to her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders. She placed a light kiss where she had been sucking moments earlier, the spot already purpling. Mack could barely feel that kiss.

"You kiss me properly Fabray, or don't bother at all," she growled as Quinn began moving further down her chest, chuckling at the words, an empty threat; now they had started, Mack would do nothing to stop Quinn, and both of them knew it. But just because she'd said it, Quinn nipped hard on the flesh of Mack's breast. She smiled when Mack let out a small gasp of pain and kissed the spot in apology, willing away the purple teeth marks she'd left there.

To spite her, Mack flipped them over and manoeuvred herself so that she and Quinn were eye to eye on the bed, she hovering over Quinn, supported on her hands. She brought the flesh of her thigh between Quinn's legs, and pressed it once to Quinn's clit. Mack didn't take her eyes off Quinn's face as she did, not missing the sharp, inaudible intake of breath, nor the tightening of her jaw, or the way her eyelids fluttered for a second. She certainly didn't miss the way Quinn grinded once more against her thigh, almost without realising. Still watching, she saw Quinn mentally berate herself for it. Interesting; Quinn wanted all the control this time, but Mack wasn't willing to give it to her that easily. She lowered her head to suck on one of Quinn's nipples, simultaneously pressing her thigh up again. For a short moment, Quinn let her. But then, quick as a flash, she rolled them back over.

Mack lay on her back, cocking an eyebrow at the blonde woman. Quinn grinned mischievously at her for a second, before resuming where she had left off before Mack had flipped them. Mack felt her stomach muscles tightened where Quinn kissed. She gasped when Quinn took one of her nipples into her mouth, breathing heavily as Quinn's tongue worked. She felt it harden beneath its touch. As she moved to the other, Quinn raked her nails along Mack's flank, leaving behind three faint pink streaks, the most her short nails could accomplish. Mack moaned at the touch. This spurred Quinn on. The moment she took Mack's second nipple into her mouth, she slipped two fingers into her. Mack's entire body convulsed, pushing upward against Quinn. She hadn't planned on giving in to Quinn so easily, but she had. She arched her back again into Quinn's touch, and this time, Quinn curled her fingers. Mack felt pleasure rip through her body, letting it out as a small groan. With her work on Mack's nipple done, Quinn buried her face into Mack's neck, kissing, sucking, while all the time, her fingers pumped in and out of Mack, each time bringing her closer.

Quinn's arm began to ache with the force and the effort; she never fucked Mack this hard, usually much more careful, more deliberate. Not today. She felt her own sex begin to ache in need, so taking inspiration from Mack's earlier teasing, she saddled one of Mack's thighs, clenching her teeth in pleasure as the contact with her clit rocked her to her core. She began grinding at the same pace she was pumping Mack, hard, fast, rough and urgent. To her credit, Mack had realised what she was doing and was making it easier for Quinn to have her own pleasure. She could feel the pleasure building, feel the tension. So it was that Mack came with a strangled cry all over Quinn's fingers, and she herself followed mere seconds later, utterly soundless, but just as satisfied.

Exhausted, her arm aching, she lay her chin on Mack's chest, just above her breasts. Mack gave her a light kiss on her forehead, the only place she could reach without disturbing how they were lying. Quinn grinned at her tiredly. Mack ran a hand through Quinn's short, dishevelled hair, brushing away the strands that stuck to the side of her face.

"Now then, what was that for?" Mack asked lightly, playing with a strand of blonde hair.

"Hmm?"

"That was a rather sudden, vicious attack on your part. Not that I'm opposed," Mack quickly added, seeing the look Quinn was giving her, "but it took me by surprise. And you never do anything without reason, especially not what you just did the way you did it. It hasn't been like that since we were younger."

"I just wanted to remind you that while Rachel Berry decides to flirt with me, I'm all yours and she can't have me," Quinn said, moving her head to place a kiss where her chin was resting, before placing it back.

"We have some of the most incredible sex we've had in a while, and you tell me it's because of Rachel Berry? Way to ruin the mood," Mack growled, but she was joking.

"I noticed the way you got angry. Just 'cause you don't talk, doesn't mean I don't notice. I do love you, after all, you know," Quinn teased. Mack gave a light tug at the strand of hair she was playing with. After a moment, she tucked it behind Quinn's ear.

"I'm glad. I was a little jealous," she admitted.

"I know. But honestly Mack, Rachel Berry has absolutely no chance next to you. She's not the one I'm hopelessly in love with," Quinn assured, reaching up to stroke Mack's jaw. This time Mack did disturb the way Quinn was lying on her to kiss her on the mouth. She held her close for a few moments, revelling in the way their bodies stuck together, soaked in post-coital sweat.

"I love you," she murmured into Quinn's hair.

"I love you too," came Quinn's response, muffled, but audible. Mack sighed and pulled away, only to press her forehead to Quinn's.

"I have to go pick up Damien," she apologised.

"Make sure you pick up some bread," Quinn replied, her way of saying that it was ok, that they were ok, that some flirtatious girl from the past was no threat at all. And Mack, leaving with a coat to shut out the cold, was reassured.


	3. Chapter 3

Mack watched the two loves of her life as she sat in the shade on a blanket. She could hear the high, clear laugh of Damien as Quinn chased after him with deliberately lumbering steps. She herself chuckled when Quinn swept the small boy up in her arms and swung him around as he squealed with laughter.

"Mommy!" the boy giggled, stumbling towards Mack, collapsing at her side in breathless joy.

"Is that it? You give up already? The monster's going to get New York now," Quinn mock growled, also sitting down. Her fingers found the boy's tummy and tickled, sending him into more fits of giggles. They rolled around on the blanket, making Mack chuckle in amusement.

"I don't care if the monster gets New York!" Damien yelled, trying to fend off Quinn's hands. She gasped.

"You don't care? But your mom lives in New York. The monster's going to get her!"

"Nuh uh, it won't. You won't let it," he said resolutely, pointing a finger at the blonde woman.

"Me? And why would I do that?"

"Because you're mama, and you love mommy," Damien explained in seriousness. He pushed himself up as Quinn sat back down on her heels. They stared at each other, Mack looking on with curiosity at the strange scene. While it wasn't a strange thing to have Damien think of Quinn as his other parent, it was strange to hear him be so resolute about her role in their small family. Curious, Mack watched them come to some silent agreement, Quinn breaking out into a grin, and Damien giving a small nod.

"Of course," Quinn nodded. Then, stretching forward, she placed a chaste kiss on Mack's lips. "c'mon," she said, tugging on the edge of the blanket. The three of them moved it from under the tree and lay on their backs, Mack in the middle with Quinn and Damien on either side of her. They stared at the clouds drifting by, skating along a perfectly blue sky.

"Look, a rabbit!" Damien exclaimed, pointing.

"Oh, I see it," Quinn agreed, then pointed out another cloud. "But that one looks like a rhinoceros with a whale's tail."

Mack squinted, but couldn't see it. To her, it was half a face with a curly moustache emerging from the bottom. But Damien was making acquiescent noises, so she held her tongue, contented to go along with it. Warm fingers found her right hand, slipping into the spaces they were so familiar with. Mack's stomach jolted, but she curled her fingers and held the hand which had sought hers. She turned her head to see Quinn smiling a lazy smile at her. Leaning towards her, she kissed the other woman's lips. Something nudged Mack in the ribs. Breaking apart from Quinn, she turned her face to her son.

"Are you two kissing again?"

"Mhm."

"Well, that's ok. The hero always kisses the person they love in the stories. It's how everybody knows they're in love and gonna get married," Damien said, turning back to the clouds. Mack stared at him. He was already a million miles away, eyes bright, widening every time he saw some shape in the clouds. He was such a beautiful child, Mack thought as she watched him, then realised that all mothers probably felt that way about their children. But her was, to her, the most beautiful one to have ever lived, and he was bright, the way she'd hoped he'd be, so he wouldn't make the same mistakes she did in life. His astuteness scared her sometimes; she was forced to wonder whether it was right that a kid was that smart at eight years old. Either way, he was her child, and she would fight to the death to keep him safe, even if the scary monsters who wanted to eat New York were usually far more scary than anything imagination could fathom, and were more sinister, and far more ordinary. Tearing her eyes away, she turned them skyward again to the pure white clouds.

"Hey, that one looks like a deer," she said, extracting her hand from Quinn's, and pointing.

"A stag!" Quinn proclaimed.

"Expecto Patronum!" Damien cried, making the three of them burst out with loud peals of laughter.

"Expecto Patronum," Quinn chuckled.

"Have you read that far already?" Mack asked. Hadn't they only started Harry Potter a month ago?

"He loves it. Tries to coerce me into reading two chapters every night. Don't you, buddy?" Quinn prodded, pushing herself onto her elbow and reaching over Mack to poke Damien in the ribs. He grinned at her.

"You'll run out of things to read faster that way," warned Mack, biting her lip as Quinn's hand came to rest on her hip. She bit harder as Quinn's thumb began caressing small circles just above the waistband of her jeans, burrowed beneath the hem of her shirt. She fought the shudder of desire which wanted to shoot through her. The thought of Damien lying beside her sobered her up a little.

"You can never run out of books to read," he replied confidently. Mack raised an eyebrow at Quinn.

"You've been whispering in his ear again, haven't you?" she mock glared. Quinn shrugged noncommittally, the smile on her face giving her away. Mack's own lips began to curve upwards. "Well, it's true, I guess."

"Of course it is," Quinn smiled widely, showing off her perfect teeth, "and you couldn't hate me even if it weren't."

"I wouldn't test that if I were you," Mack guffawed, poking Quinn lightly in the hip with the tip of her index finger. Ducking down, Quinn placed a quick, chaste kiss on Mack's lips and then grinned at her, that knowing grin which made Mack groan a little in frustration, while also making her fall in love with the other woman all over again.

"That one looks like a spider!" Damien exclaimed, once again engaging the two women in his game. Quinn flopped back down on her back with a little huff, as some of the air was forced out from her lungs with the impact, but staring at the cloud, laughed with Damien about the spider's missing leg. Mack lay between the two of them, connected by grips of fingers on either side. They were her family; her lover and her son, and there was no prospect of life every being more complete than it was that afternoon, lying in Central Park and looking at the clouds. Somehow, it felt completely intimate, even though they were at the very centre of a hugely populated city, with people all around them, walking dogs, chasing children, reading books. It didn't matter; within their sphere, there was only Damien, Quinn and Mack, and that's all that mattered.

At least, that's what she was content thinking, until a shadow fell across their prostrate forms, instantly sending them cold as the figure blocked out the sun. For Mack, it felt like reality came crashing down on their perfect afternoon. Her insides instantly turned to ice when she recognised the face of the figure.

"Funny seeing you here," Rachel Berry said, looking down on them, "who would've thought? I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I saw you here and thought I should immediately adhere to courtesy and come say hello."

Mack clenched her teeth to keep from scowling, and forced herself to silence the remark itching to leap from the tip of her tongue, claws out, to maim the face of the other brunette woman. Quinn gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she rearranged herself into a sitting position. Mack and Damien followed suit.

"I hope I'm not imposing," Rachel beamed, but Quinn shook her head.

"Have a seat," she gestured at the blanket. Rachel only needed to be asked once. She sat cross legged, still smiling at them. Mack forced herself not to glare, and found, with Quinn deliberately moving so her back was pressed into her side, it took less effort than she imagined. The warmth of her girlfriend was assuring.

"And you must be Mack's son!" Rachel stated, gazing at Damien, whose mouth remained clamped shut while he burrowed closer to Mack, suddenly removed from his comfort zone with new arrival of the woman. Mack stroked his hair and nodded.

"Damien," she said, for the sake of politeness, unable to avoid the introduction. Rachel stretched out her hand, introducing herself to the boy. Damien hesitated a moment before taking it and giving it a curt shake. When he let go, he retracted his hand at the speed of lightning, and out of the corner of her eye, Mack spotted him wiping the palm of his hand on the fabric of the blanket, trying to erase the feel of Rachel's hand from his own. Pride tinged her chest with warmth. Rachel, fortunately, didn't notice Damien's ministrations to be rid of her, as she'd focused her eyes back on Quinn and Mack, apologising for having run out on them at Shelby's.

"It's fine," Quinn said, "how was the audition?"

"Oh, fine, I suppose. If I don't get the part, I'm going to assume the casting director is both blind and deaf, because I was far better than anyone else who auditioned. Some of those girls couldn't hold a note if it was placed in the palm of their hands. And their dancing! Completely atrocious. We thought Finn was bad in high school, well, these girls were worse. It was embarrassing to be in the same room as them. I honestly swear they couldn't follow choreography if they'd been genetically designed to do so."

"Uh," Quinn said, not sure how to respond. Mack, meanwhile, resented Rachel for marring their afternoon. Damien plucked blades of grass just off the edge of the blanket.

"So yes, I expect the role. I should hear from the director any day now. It's a shame you gave up singing, Quinn. We could have been in a show together. I in the lead, and you in one of the minor, but no less important, roles. Your voice is beautiful and your alto perfectly compliments my own singing. I'd always hoped you'd fall into the drama department in college and at least try your hand at musical theatre," Rachel shrugged, as if she were disappointed that things hadn't turned out that way.

"You did? Well, I did try it in high school, Rachel, and I loved it, but there was no way I was going to make a career out of it. I needed something I had a chance of succeeding in. And to be honest, there were things I liked more than Glee club," Quinn replied, acutely ignoring Rachel's attempts at flattery.

"Besides, Quinn's very happy where she is now. She probably would have ended up miserable majoring in musical theatre, and spent the rest of her life struggling to land roles," Mack added, leaving the unsaid 'like you' hanging in the air between them, as present as the rest of her sentence, vaporous and insidious though it was.

"Oh, oh," Rachel said, waving it away as she waved away the notion of Quinn's hypothetical failure in musical theatre, "she would never have had trouble being cast. Look at her, she's utterly gorgeous. Directors would be squabbling at her feet to have her," she proclaimed, staring Quinn in the eye. Mack felt her pulse grow hot in anger. She was glad Damien was leaning against her right arm, or she might, at that very moment, be swinging it, fist clenched, towards Rachel Berry's damned flirtatious face. Quinn squirmed closer to Mack, further from Rachel, who was still gazing at her.

"Mack's right," she said, "I am happy where I am. I found something I love doing, and I'm not going to give that up. I liked performing, but that was part of my old self. That person's gone now; I'm not the same person I was in high school. You have to recognise that, Rachel."

"I do, but I still think it's a shame. I think you would have been successful on the stage. Or even in film. You're much prettier than many of the celebrities out there," Rachel shrugged.

"Looks don't determine whether someone is going to be successful," growled Mack, sick of hearing Rachel compliment her girlfriend when she was sitting right next to her. Rachel raised a single eyebrow.

"No, but you'd be surprised to learn of how often someone is picked for their looks rather than their talent. There's a good reason I haven't become successful yet, and it isn't because I'm a terrible performer."

The static tension in the air was almost palpitable. If someone had lit a match in the air between them at that very moment, the air would ignite and consume them all in a great ball of flame. Quinn noticed, and nudged Mack slightly with her shoulder, which Mack understood that it was time for this horrific experience to end.

"Well, it was nice seeing you again Rachel, but it's time we were going. We have things to do for the rest of the day," Mack said, clambering to her feet then helping Quinn and Damien up. Rachel followed suit, standing up on her end of the picnic blanket.

"Nice, running into you. I suppose I'll see you around. We all live in New York, after all," she smiled, sweetly and to Mack, sickeningly. There was a hint of maliciousness in that smile which bit at her diaphragm and made it hard to breathe, as if she knew this wouldn't be the last time they saw each other, that somehow, the other woman was planning exactly how their next meeting would occur, and where, and Mack worried about whether she was even going to be there, or whether it was going to be a foray involving only this small, self-absorbed, amateur actor, and Quinn, alone to face the seductive fangs of the serpent who had now tried twice to pierce its way between the two of them. She shook herself out of the waking nightmare her imagination was creating, and waved Rachel goodbye, thankful to see the back of her.

"Are we really going?" Damien asked, "or was that just to get rid of the not nice lady?"

"We're really going, kiddo," Mack replied, "but it was also partly to get rid of the not nice lady," she grinned at her son. He nodded back, his mouth twitching at the corners before settling back into a grim line. He took her hand, his small one almost consumed by her bigger one. With his other, he grabbed Quinn's. Mack could feel his fingers tighten around her own, the force surprising her a little; it was uncharacteristic for her son to be forceful about anything.

"I don't like the way she was looking at mama."

"And what way was that, honey?"

"Hm," he considered, looking thoughtful as they walked through Central Park, "I don't know. But I don't like the way she looked at you too. She looked at you like she wished you weren't there."

Mack blinked. She hadn't noticed that, even though she'd been looking resentfully at Rachel much of the time. Damien tugged at her hand.

"She's not a witch is she? She couldn't make you go away because she wants mama, could she?"

"No, she's not a witch. And she can't make mommy go away, and she can't make me go with her, because I don't want to, and if I don't want to, I'm not going to do something," Quinn assured. Damien thought about it for a moment, and then nodded, accepting that.

Mack trudged through the park thinking over her son's words. She knew that Quinn was never going to leave her, not for the likes of Rachel Berry, but a doubt pawed at her resolution, forcing her to double think her thoughts. She caught herself doing it and reprimanded herself. There were some things in Quinn she couldn't touch, some parts of her where not even the deepest reaching hands of Mack's warmth could reach, and though she had long since accepted that, she could not help but fear that one day Quinn might find someone who would thaw that glacier in her soul, and then she would be gone, melted into thin air, away from Mack. Reason told her that it wasn't going to happen, that Quinn was invested in their relationship, in Damien, but fear and doubt forced Mack to reconsider, and the results were less promising. An irrational part of Mack feared that if Rachel could warmth the cold, lonely part of Quinn, then Quinn would fall into her arms. Biting the inside of her lip, she pushed the thought from her mind with a monumental thrust of mental willpower. Banished, it lingered at the fringes of her mind, ready to pounce back into the arena of her competitive thoughts when she was vulnerable. Looking to her left, she saw Quinn talking earnestly to Damien, repeating that she wasn't going to be going anywhere, least of all after Rachel, the nasty lady.

Mack retreated into herself for the rest of their journey back to their apartment. Beside her, Quinn and Damien talked animatedly, about a myriad of subjects, Quinn answering Damien's questions, endlessly patient as he jumped from subject to subject. She tried to smile when one of them met her gaze, but it felt unnatural, as if her face was being stretched in a way it wasn't supposed to go. She saw the flicker of worry pass through Quinn's hazel eyes, before Damien stole her attention again.

When they arrived home, Quinn ushered Damien inside and encouraged him to get back to his reading, telling him that she wasn't going to read books aloud to him forever. Happy to have some time to himself, he scampered off. The soft thud of his bedroom door sounded through the apartment. Satisfied that he wouldn't jump out to disturb them, Quinn turned to Mack, concern filling her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, without preamble, but gently, "you've been quiet the whole way home."

"I - I just need you to hold me for a little bit," Mack stuttered, and almost instantly was taken into the warmth of Quinn's embrace. The taller woman rested her cheek against Mack's dark hair. Quinn pressed a kiss onto the top of Mack's head and Mack felt a little better, but not willing to let go. She needed Quinn right there, where she could lean her ear against the other woman's chest and hear her heartbeat, the solid thump-thump-thump that reminded her that she was still there.

"Hey, is this about the Rachel thing? Because I told you I'm not going anywhere, and you know I mean it," Quinn said, the sound of her voice reverberating in her chest, sounding distant to Mack, even while it made her cheek vibrate slightly. She placed a light kiss on Quinn's collarbone before answering.

"Sort of. I know she's not going to tempt you away from what we have, but she just put me out of sorts. She reminds me that I could lose you, somehow."

Quinn stroked Mack's hair, and pulled her closer into the hug. Mack knew what she was trying to do; for both of them, their bodies spoke clearer than their words did, and Quinn was trying to reassure her, to let her love flow from her own body into Mack's in an osmotic like process. Mack appreciated it.

"I love you," she murmured.

"And I love you, which is why you have nothing to worry about. Don't you know that no one's ever come even close to you? You might not like to remember it, but Rachel isn't the first person to flirt with me in your presence. And I'm still here, aren't I? I love you, Mackenzie, like I love the stars, like I love the New York city lights, like I love listening to the sound of your breathing while you sleep. More than that. And I'm never going to leave you. I couldn't. It'd be like trying to walk blindly, without a single idea which way was up, or forward. New York would drown me without you, don't you know that? I'm here because I'm entirely selfish; I'm here because I can't be anywhere else. You're home, Mack - you have been for a long time. Anywhere without you would be an unnavigable country," Quinn said, turning Mack by the chin so that they looked each other in the eyes. Mack shivered. She knew, they both knew.

"I'm just silly sometimes, is all," she whispered in apology to Quinn, who was still looking at her with shining eyes, as if she were about to burst into tears from the resolution behind her words and the hope that they'd been received and understood. Mack caught her blinking them away quickly before they fell. Love grew warm in her chest, spreading its fingers through her body, igniting them with reassurance. She laced her fingers with Quinn's and gently pulled her to the bedroom. "I want to lie with you," she said.

They lay together on the duvet, Mack curled into Quinn, who lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Abruptly, she turned and kissed Mack urgently on the lips, as though she was trying to pass onto her one last message before it could be torn from her. When they broke apart, they were both panting, wild eyed and confused.

"I'm sorry," Quinn began, "that was…"

"That was you making sure I knew. I know, Quinn. I swear to god I know and this is just me being a possessive girlfriend who sometimes worries, not that the love of her life is going to be unfaithful, but that the presence of someone else might screw with the dynamics of their relationship. That's what I'm scared of Quinn. I'm terrified that Rachel wanting you is going to change things with us."

"How, Mack? I don't want her. I haven't for a long, long time. Those feelings are dead, buried somewhere untouchable, never to surface again. If I had a choice, I wouldn't even be in the same city as her. She can't possibly do anything to change our relationship," Quinn said, back to stroking Mack's hair. Mack pushed herself up onto one elbow and looked down at Quinn.

"But she could. I don't know how, but she could. I know you don't feel anything, but sometimes you're so distant, I feel like there's something wrong with me. What if one day she's there and you talk to her the way you don't talk to me? What if that stirs those old feelings? I'm scared, Quinn. Part of me knows there's no way in hell that's going to happen, but there's a tiny part of me that worries that it might, and that part is killing me. I'm sorry, I know it's irrational," she apologised, seeing the hurt look in Quinn's eyes. Quinn shook her head, reaching up to push a strand of brown hair out of Mack's face.

"No, it's not something you should apologise for. I just fell in love with you all over again. You reaffirmed that I couldn't possibly leave you. The fact that you're worried enough about our relationship changing is a sign that you love me enough to care if it does. Don't you think that I sometimes have that worry about you too? I know that there might be someone else out there who might make you feel things that I can't feel, who you might open up to more than you do with me, and it scares me too, even though I know it's impossible. No, not impossible, but a high, high improbability. It's that hint of possibility which has me scared, just like it has you too. But we're built on solid ground hun, we're unshakeable. I promise."

"There's no one I could possibly talk to more than you," Mack said, scandalised. Quinn laughed.

"Me neither. I guess there's nothing to worry about then, is there? C'mere," she said, pulling Mack in and kissing her. Mack curled into Quinn again, taking in her warmth, the love she had, the smell of her skin, the texture of it beneath her fingertips. The fear began to ebb away, and soon it was as though it wasn't there. With the afternoon sunlight filtering in through their glass wall, the two of them began to doze off. Just as Quinn's breathing became deep and even, Damien padded into the room, pausing at the doorway when he caught sight of them. Mack saw him and waved him into the room, pulling him onto the bed. She placed a light kiss on his forehead and he curled with his back to hers.

Together, the three of them slept, oblivious to the city which continued around them as constant as it always did. With the two most important people in her life on either side of her, Mack felt safe, content; fearless of the potential not nice women who might lie in wait around the corner.

**A/N: Ok, so there's not smut in this chapter. Sorry to disappoint. Thought I'd get it a bit more plot driven this time around. Also, I apologise for taking forever to update, and thanks to everyone who decided to read this despite that. You're all awesome. **

**A shout out to The Lost Art of Common Sense, who has been doing a great job in motivating me and talking over ideas about this fic. Thank you, you're amazing!**


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't like her," Mack declared, her frown causing a little furrow between her eyebrows, "I don't care how nice she acts."

"I know," Quinn sighed, "but she invited us. It would be rude to say no."

"I'm not really worried about propriety right now, Quinn."

This elicited another sigh from the blonde woman. "I know, I know, but we're already on the way. It's too late now," she gently reminded, placing a reassuring hand on Mack's arm. Mack glared, but didn't throw it off. Quinn was right. But spending their Saturday night watching Rachel Berry perform was not her idea of a night well spent. If Mack had wanted to see that insufferable woman act, she simply would have invited her over for dinner, and watch her pretend to not flirt with Quinn. It would have cost a lot less than tonight. Still, the way Quinn's eyes had lit up when Mack walked out of their bedroom in a spectacular red cocktail dress was worth the trouble. If they were forced to go to a bar afterwards with the potentially homewrecking diva, then Mack was going to make certain that Quinn's eyes never left her girlfriend.

A few people milled around the entrance to the small theatre when they arrived. Clambering out of the taxi, Mack wished again that they'd stayed in, and she hoped that Damien was getting along well with his baby sitter. Not that he was a troublesome child, but Mack couldn't help but worry. Quinn's hand on the small of her back led them through the front doors.

The inside was rather bare - just a few chairs and couches and a tiny bar, a single barista handing out drinks and collecting money. Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow at Mack, who smiled back. A moment later, she returned with two glasses of red wine. Mack carefully took one, the red liquid sloshing against the side of the glass.

"Here's to the hope of a good night," Quinn smiled, clinking her glass against Mack's in a toast.

"Amen to that."

They drank, and Mack's eyes wandered around the room. There weren't a great number of people - mostly friend and relatives of the actors, she guessed, since it was opening night and it wasn't a much publicised production. As she gazed, a few people started to wander into the theatre, the doorman checking tickets before pointing them to their seats.

"Should we?" she asked, turning to Quinn, who was looking at her. She shrugged.

"We should finish the wine first. I don't know if we're allowed to take it in with us," she said, uncertainty lacing her voice. So Mack tipped the glass and drained the rest of the wine, grimacing as it slightly burned her throat. Quinn downed hers as well, though a little slower. Fishing their tickets out of her clutch while Quinn returned the glasses to the bar, Mack wandered to the door. At the return of Quinn, she turned to the doorman who also paraded as an usher. His eyes widened slightly when they passed over Mack, and she couldn't help notice him fumbling their tickets as he went to check them.

"Th-third row from the front, towards the middle. You're seats C7 and C8," he stuttered, still gaping when the two of them glided past him. Mack felt smug pride glow inside her chest. She hadn't rattled someone like that in quite some time. Quinn on the other hand grumbled something about a "stupid, hormone-riddled teenager," as she led the two of them to their seats.

"You know I have eyes only for you," Mack whispered in her ear when they sat. Quinn nodded, but still held Mack's hand tighter than was necessary. They sat in silence, Mack contemplating giving the kid a real show by pulling Quinn into a kiss, but all thoughts of that were brushed aside when the lights dimmed, the last stragglers hurrying to their seats. An older couple took the seats to Mack's immediate right. They looked pensively towards the stage. Mack spared a brief thought about whether she and Quinn would be coming to shows together when they were that age. An actor climbing onto the stage stole her attention from the thought. Clearing his throat, his voice boomed out across the small space, filling the gaps between the people.

"My dear ladies and gentleman, I hope you are ready for a performance like no other. It will leave you gripping your seats, trembling with anticipation, excitement, and hope. It will take your breath away!" he announced. Mack had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. The young man gave a small bow at the scattered applause. And then the show began in earnest, Rachel stepping up to replace the young man of introduction, much to Mack's annoyance, as the protagonist of the play. It was no surprise that it was a musical, though the content shocked her. Who thinks about writing a musical depicting the life of a young woman who lives in a sanatorium, driven made by unrequited love? Yet, for all that, Mack found it somewhat moving at times. There was event the odd line of humour thrown into the mix to break the tension. The young man who'd introduced the play returned as the young woman's doctor, hopelessly in love with her, while she pined away with love for somebody else. Even the idolised lover made an appearance, with his wife, no less, demanding the mad woman leave them alone and stop sending them maniacal letters. All the while, Rachel strutted, pined, fretted and wept upon the stage, making it her own. She was good, Mack conceded, but her voice carried too far in the small space, making her, and several others, wince slightly every time she sang with too much gusto. Mack kept wishing the production team would turn down the damn microphone. But in all, the performance wasn't the worst one Mack had ever attended, though it was far from the best. She took pleasure in noting that Rachel's acting was far from flawless.

When the lights flickered back on, the cast was treated with enthusiastic applause. But Mack made sure to clap a little softer when Rachel was pushed forward by her cast mates to take a final bow. Quinn didn't seem to notice this. Finally, after a final round of applause, with hands stinging, the actors disappeared off stage, presumably to change into street clothes and congratulate each other on a well executed performance. As they made their way out of the theare, Mack made sure to give the doorman, who was staring unabashedly at her, a lecherous wink. His eyes went wide and his face began to flush a deep red. She looked away as she fell into step beside Quinn.

Wandering, they decided to fall into one of the couches littering the small foyer. Other patrons still loitered, talking of various things, but mostly the performance. The two of them sat in silence and watched, Quinn snuggling into Mack's shoulder. They received a few glances at this, but most people were too absorbed in themselves to notice. Soon enough, the number of people dwindled, leaving only those who had bought themselves a post-show drink. It was then that the actors started to file into the area, receiving more applause as people recognised them. This time, Mack kept her applause to herself. Quinn followed suit, too comfortable and too lazy to move. But when Rachel spotted them, after pausing to give thanks to several people, they were forced to their feet out of politeness. Rachel's smug look fuelled the anger Mack had lurking just below the surface of her skin.

"Oh, thank you," Rachel beamed, accepting their congratulations. "I'm glad you two could make it. I invited Shelby but she couldn't come - something about not being able to find a baby sitter for Beth."

"Understandable," Quinn said, nodding, "we wouldn't have come either, if we couldn't find someone to watch Damien." Rachel nodded, but said nothing, the conversations falling into a lull, all three of them looking everywhere but at each other. Until Rachel perked up at something she's just remembered, her eyes shining. She held her hand out to a thin, raven haired woman, who smiled and took it.

"This is Rose," she introduced, then pointed to Mack and Quinn, introducing them to the newcomer. "You wouldn't mind Rose joining us at dinner, would you?" Rachel asked, looking, Mack noticed, at Quinn, who simply shook her head and said of course not. Mack quickly agreed, relief in her chest wanting to break through and flood her, but she held it back, in case Rose wasn't a date, but just a friend. She was wary, but she hoped that the presence of the woman meant that Rachel would not flirt with Quinn. It put the anxiety in her chest into a state of hesitant quiet - it was by all means ready to rear its head again at a moment's notice.

Together, after Rachel gave a final round of goodbyes and thanks, the quartet moved off into the New York night. It was noisy and alive, bright with artificial colours, the way Mack loved it - the way she knew Quinn loved it too, although she preferred looking over it than walking among it. She slipped her hand into Quinn's, warmth flowing into her as the familiar fingers intertwined with hers. She noticed Rachel sneak a glance at them out of the corner of her eye, but Mack didn't care; she was with her girlfriend in this marvellous city, and she felt beautiful in her red dress, aided by the fact that every few seconds, Quinn's eyes were drawn back to her, as if by an unseen magnetic force.

"I know a good place not too far from here which sells vegan food as well as regular food," Rachel piped up, "Rose and I checked it out last week and deemed the food completely acceptable, though it's not the best either of us have had."

"Lead the way!" Quinn declared, and when Rachel and Rose moved ahead together, she shared an incredulous glance with Mack, who chuckled.

"Last week, eh?" whispered Mack conspiratorially in Quinn's ear, making the blonde giggle. Quinn swung their hands between them, grinning, as if they were two freshly dating teenagers. Ahead of them, Rachel and Rose walked close together, but not touching. Next to her dark skinned friend in a deep purple dress, Rachel looked unbelievably pale. When Mack thought about how pale she or Quinn would look next to Rose, she wanted to chuckle - they would probably shine like beacons.

The four of them stopped outside a restaurant on a corner, rather empty, considering the time of night. Pushing their way in, Mack noticed it wasn't the type of restaurant you had to wait to be seated at - it was the kind you checked to see if there were seats from outside before you walked in. Faded photos lined the walls, none of them corresponding with one another, giving the place a disjointed feel. It was rather like a diner, only with tables instead of booths. They took the table in the corner, Quinn jostling Mack from one seat to the another on the other side of the table. When Mack gave her a startled look, Quinn bowed her head towards her ear and whispered "I want to be able to see down both of the streets," and sure enough, when the two of them sat, Mack realised the seat gave her a good view of the streets that the restaurants sat on the corner of. She smiled to herself, remembering that Quinn liked to watch the world go by. A waiter bustled over, handing them menus.

"Would you like to start with drinks?" he asked, pen poised on his notepad. The few of them exchanged glances and shrugged.

"A bottle of red wine will do for now, thank you," Mack interpreted, hoping this was the right answer. The waiter jotted it down.

"I'll return with the wine and get your entrée order then?" he said, his tone implying a question more than a statement.

"Yes thanks."

Flipping over her menu, she found the thought of eating at this strange time of night unappealing, so made her selection something small and light.

"Any ideas?" Quinn prodded.

"I was thinking the herb bread. I'm not so hungry," she replied, placing her finger on the item. Quinn nodded.

"We'll share?"

"Sure."

"Are you going to get a main? You should eat something decent. You haven't eaten since lunch, and no, a muffin doesn't count," Quinn smiled, seeing Mack's mouth open to protest. She quickly shut it, but nodded, turning back to the menu. Nothing caught her eye, so she forced herself to really look at it, scanning each meal individually. She chewed her lip as she thought about it. Across the table, Rose and Rachel were talking in murmurs to one another. They seemed to be discussing what they like the last time they ate there. Mack broke the silence between the four of them.

"What do you recommend?" she asked, smiling at the two as they looked up. "I have no idea what main to get," she added, gesturing to the menu, "Anything you can suggest?"

"The tofu isn't terrible," Rachel answered, but Rose shook her head.

"Oh no, the vegetable soup is definitely the way to go. Perfect for this time of night, when you're not hungry enough to eat much more."

Mack blinked, wondering how the woman had echoed her own thoughts so precisely. She smiled a thanks as she cruised down the menu in search of the soup. Reading the ingredients, she decided it didn't sound too bad. The waiter returned, pouring them each their wine before taking down their orders. Once he'd gone, the four of them fell into a conversation about the play. Rachel was praised yet again, although this time by Rose, easing the anxiety Mack still harbored in her chest, ready to spring up at a moment's notice. Praises were also given to the composer, the director, and the writer, all of whom, it turned out, were the same woman, who'd enlisted the occasional help from a friend or two.

"She's a very talented woman," nodded Rachel, taking a sip of her wine. "But I wanted to ask, Quinn, what did you think of the music? You're the closest thing we have to a professional musician here."

Mack bristled at this, but Quinn shrugged.

"It was good. Could've done with a little more variation maybe; I recognised the same refrain in every song at least once, but the point did come across in the music, so that's the main thing. I liked the uh," she paused, searching for the right word, "the lamentation, I guess you'd call it."

"The whole thing's a lamentation," Rose stated, interjecting. Rachel burst out laughing.

"It's true. Mia spends her whole time whining about her lost love. The play itself is her lamentation."

"Right," nodded Rose, in full agreement. The conversation veered towards laughing at the play. Rachel and Rose fuelling the talk. It was nice to not have Rachel preying on Quinn, and Mack felt herself begin to relax. The conversation petered out into silence when the waiter returned with their food. Quinn and Mack shared the herb bread once it became clear that Rachel and Rose wanted none of it, despite the couple's offer to them. To reciprocate, they politely refused the others' offer of grilled eggplants. They picked away at their food, until Mack cleared her throat, swallowing the last of her bread.

"So, tell us, how and when did you two meet?" she asked, trying to pose the question casually, as if she'd just thought of it, rather than the truth wrestling with it all night, trying to wait for the right moment. They exchanged a glance.

"About a month ago, on the production, of all things. I was one of Pauline, the director's friends, brought in as an extra pair of hands. Rachel burst in during one of the set dressings, all angry faced because the costume maker had made the dress too big for her, and was demanding Pauline fix things."

"It wasn't exactly like that. I wasn't demanding," Rachel interrupted, rolling her eyes, but tingeing red just the same.

"Uh huh, you were. So Pauline sent me off to see this dress on Rachel, and to see if I could do anything about it. And when she comes out of her dressing room wearing it, it's almost falling off her, it's so big. I just took one look at her and burst out laughing."

"It was made for someone twice my size," muttered Rachel.

"And I couldn't stop," continued Rose, "eventually I was crying from the laughter, but by then Rachel was laughing too, the whole thing was so ridiculous."

"Is this the dress from the very beginning? The one she's taken to the asylum in?" Quinn tried to clarify. Both young women opposite them nodded.

"Anyway, we sent it back to the dressmaker with Rachel's measurements, to make sure she got it right this time. After that, we just laughed every time we saw each other. It was nice, so I asked her out. I didn't expect a yes, but I got one," Rose grinned. Rachel patted her arm.

"Of course you did," she smiled at her. Quinn and Mack exchanged yet another glance, eyebrows raised. All the tension they'd been feeling ebbed away, leaving them free enough to laugh. Neither of them quite recognised this Rachel. Mack found that the night wasn't turning out so bad when she didn't have to watch Rachel with hawk eyes. She even found herself liking Rose, who was as easy going as Rachel was self assured, balancing the otherwise uncomfortable dynamic.

"So how do you three know each other?" Rose gestured, looking them over.

"High school," Mack replied, the other two nodding at the statement.

"You're a long way from Lima," Rose said, smiling and taking a sip of wine. "Good to see that you're still in touch."

"We couldn't not," Rachel began, "Quinn and I went through a lot in high school. We were in the glee club together. Quin had a fantastic voice, which I'm sure she still possesses, even if it's rarely used these days," she continued, the compliment bordering on souring Mack's mood once more.

"She flatters me. Everyone knew she was the real star. I wasn't even close to singing at her calibre," Quinn defended, putting up her hands. Rachel rolled her eyes.

"True, but you were still great. Perhaps not as powerful as some of us, but you could still send shivers down my spine," Rachel beamed. Mack's anger crept back into her chest and started to simmer. Quinn said nothing and the group lapsed back into silence, the quiet slowly tipping the balance into the 'awkward' zone. Rose saved the moment.

"How about you two?" she pointed at Mack and Quinn, who smiled gently.

"Um, actually, we met in the Unwed Mother's Club," Quinn explained, "we were both sixteen years old and pregnant, desperate for someone who could understand what we were going through. Mack and I got along well, and stayed friends even after we gave birth. Although we didn't start dating till senior year. We broke it off several times, but found we couldn't stay away from each other. I'm glad," the blonde woman smiled. Mack leaned in and kissed her on her temple.

"She was there when no one else was. She's been a good mother to my son, Damien too. Plus, she's a great cook!" she added, turning back to the other two and throwing them into a fit of laughter.

"I don't know if baking can be considered 'cooking'. But Damien likes my roasts, so who am I to dispute an eight year old with impeccable tastes?"

"I remember you backed the cupcakes for the bake sale in sophomore year. They were some great cupcakes," Rachel grinned, before turning to Rose, "I've never had cupcakes that tasted as good as those ones."

A ripple of anger surged through Mack. The comment wasn't as flirtatious as usual, but it still grated her heart the wrong way. Just beneath the table, Quinn's hand found hers, as if she knew. The touch calmed the anger coursing through Mack's veins. But there was something else too, tainting the anger, fuelling it. Mack frowned, trying to identify what it was, before realising with a stomach dropping jolt that it was jealousy. She was jealous that Rachel had a story to tell of Quinn from a time when she and Quinn hadn't even been acquainted. It hurt her to feel like there was a part of Quinn which belonged to someone else. It was just another part of her girlfriend she could never have, never touch; it was closed off in locked boxes, hidden behind impenetrable doors and walls she could never pick the locks on. She'd tried to accept it a long time ago, but it was hard - like trying to walk through a forest of knives without being cut; you know it happened, that it was still going to hurt, but you had to try anyway, even when you knew it was impossible. She let the moment slide, gripping Quinn's hand tighter.

"She's exaggerating. They weren't that good. Remember Puck spiked them with weed so everyone would get the munchies and buy more?" Quinn was saying.

"I remember that! I wholeheartedly disapproved and still do, but it was effective, I have to admit. It turned into a successful, if somewhat dubious, business venture. I wonder what he's up to these days," Rachel trailed off. Anger stabbed at Mack again, this time at the mention of Puck, the asshole who impregnated a sixteen year old Quinn. She knew what it was like for that to happen, only it had been worse for Quinn because losing everything she had because he refused to wear a condom. Quinn had said she'd forgiven him, that it had been her fault too, and even though the logical side of her brain knew it, Mack couldn't help blaming him. Her free hand curled into a fist, so she roughly shoved the thought out of her mind.

"He's an entrepreneur in slightly illegal business ventures," Quinn answered, "at least, he was the last time I heard. His pool cleaning business didn't take off from the ground. Turns out California didn't really need another pool cleaner. He's still there though, I think."

"Really? It's a shame his job cleaning pools didn't work, but he never cleaned a pool without a hidden agenda," Rachel mused.

"Hidden agenda?" frowned Rose, her eyes darting from Rachel to Quinn and back again. Quinn gestured to Rachel to explain.

"He mostly did it to sleep with the women who hired him."

"Oh. So he's been an entrepreneur delving into the illegal for some time now," Rose stated. Receiving confused looks, she explained, "because sleeping with a minor is illegal."

"Right. Yes, then I guess you're right," Rachel agreed with a nod.

"No surprises there," muttered Mack. She was always going to despise Puck a little, the way Quinn was always going to love him. There was nothing to be done. But she was glad that he hadn't made an appearance in their lives for quite some time.

"The old days, huh?" Quinn sighed, "not that I miss them, but I wouldn't have changed them either."

"To old times!" Rose toasted, and the four of them clinked glasses. Mack quickly downed her drink. She was glad those times were over and done with. A lot had changed - she'd changed - and she'd never go back. She was downing another glass before she even realised she was doing it, her thoughts stuck on high school.

The rest of the night progressed smoothly, the talk shifting seamlessly from topic to topic. Mack's anger receded again, and she spared a brief, unfair thought as to why someone like Rose would choose to be with someone like Rachel. She gave a drunken mental shrug. By the time they said their goodbyes, Mack's head felt like it might float away, and her feet wanted to go in different directions to her body. Quinn flagged them a taxi and they piled into the backseat.

The New York lights shone through the windows, flitting green and yellow and red. Mack rested her head on Quinn's shoulder, glad to be alone with her again. A blast from a car horn startled her, but she calmed down when Quinn draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, placing a kiss on the top of her head. Her eyelids kept wanting to close, heavy against her straining eyes. Her mouth still held the metallic tang of alcohol, coating her teeth and her tongue. She burped softly.

"Excuse you!" Quinn laughed into the top of her head.

"Sorry," Mack mumbled back.

"That's ok. C'mon, we're home," Quinn said, paying the driver and then proceeding to pull Mack out of the car. As soon as she was out, the taxi sped off, a yellow blur in the night, indistinguishable from the other yellow blurs.

Getting to bed was a struggle. She and Quinn had to battle with her clothes, limbs not cooperating in their stupor.

"Fuck it!" Mack cursed when her arm got tangled in her dress.

"Shh, you'll wake Damien. Here, let me," Quinn murmured, taking the red fabric and sliding it off her girlfriend's body. It fell into a graceful pile on the floor, Mack nearly tripping over it when she went to step out of it. Quinn's hand steadied her. A pair of lips left soft kisses on the bare skin of her shoulder, then crept across her collarbone, before sneaking up her neck.

"Mm, don't," Mack protested, "I'm too drunk and tired."

"I know. I wasn't going to go there, but you're beautiful, even when you reek of alcohol and can't stay on your feet."

"How do you stay sober? I don't understand."

"It's a particular talent of mine," Quinn murmured into her shoulder, before gently tugging her to bed where they collapsed, their naked limbs entangling. Mack could smell Quinn, her scent of cleanliness and soap tinged with alcohol. Mack grimaced when she realised how she must smell.

"Sorry," she apologised, stroking Quinn's hair.

"What for?"

"For getting drunk."

"You've been worse. Besides, you were having fun tonight. I was watching you. You were beautiful. You're always beautiful, especially so when you're having fun and you don't know anyone's watching," Quinn whispered. Mack gave a soft laugh.

"I knew you were watching. And it was fun, especially when that damnable woman stopped flirting with you."

"Hm, it did make a nice change. And she's found someone nice. Rose is great. Surprised me a little at first, but good for her. Rachel needs someone to bring her out of her bubble of arrogance and into the real world. I think Rose can do that, don't you?" Quinn asked. Not getting a reply, she looked at Mack, whose eyes were closed, her breathing coming out deep and even. Quinn smiled to herself, love welling up in her chest. She pulled the blanket to cover the both of them, kissing Mack one last time before letting herself drift off into the sea of sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Quinn struggled to sit up, her hands only managing to lightly touch Mack on the hips, before she was thrust back down on the bed. She hit it and bounced back up a little from the impact. She hid the devilish smile that was threatening to overtake her face as she tried once again to sit up and grab Mack, knowing that the other girl was going to push her back down again. And that she did, this time using her whole body as a weight, anchoring Quinn down. Mack grabbed Quinn's struggling hands and pinned them down above her head, rendering her powerless. Mack grinned as she pulled Quinn into a forceful kiss, pressing her lips hard to the other woman's. After a long moment, her lips growing numb, she pulled back, tugging on Quinn's lower lip with her teeth. For extra measure, she bit down hard enough to hurt before letting go.

She resisted the urge to scratch at where the harness for the strap on bit into her skin, and moved her lips down Quinn's neck, her tongue tracing over the jugular vein, where she could feel Quinn's pulse, rapid and loud, just below the thin surface of skin. The hands she was holding down struggled, but she kept them held where they were. She pushed herself upwards, bringing her mouth close to Quinn's ear.

"You're not going to move. You're not going to struggle. Do you understand?" she growled into it, feeling Quinn buck up beneath her, their naked bodies writhing against one another. To emphasise her point, Mack brought her teeth down on Quinn's earlobe, hard enough to make sure it hurt. She let go with a self satisfied grin at the little gasp that left Quinn's mouth. But Quinn complied, for the moment, stilling her hands.

Mack moved back down, resuming her ministrations on Quinn's body. She kissed the other girl's collarbone, lightly at first, before finding a suitable spot to take the skin in her teeth, conscious that Quinn was going to have to go to work soon, and that walking in with a hickey in a visible place was probably not professional, and she knew Quinn prided herself in looking professional in the workplace. She pulled at the skin with her teeth, sucking it between them, feeling the groan building up in Quinn as she did. Before it could be sounded, she let go. Raking her short fingernails down Quinn's flank, she left long red lines along the pale skin. They stood out, even in the dim bluish light of the early morning. Outside, the sun was only just rising over New York City, and everything was quiet, but for the sounds Quinn and Mack were making.

Mack's lips found Quinn's breasts. She peppered them with kisses, before taking a nipple in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, and nibbling it, alternately. Her free hand roughly palmed the other breast, pushing against it, then gripping it so that her nails dug in and left tiny purple crescents in the skin. Mack pulled her thumb free and used her nail to scratch the underside. Quinn pushed upwards, her breath catching. Her hips bucked against Mack, and the dark haired woman smiled, before slamming the blonde's hips back down against the bed.

"I told you not to move, remember?"

Quinn let out the softest whimper. Mack's heart thumped at the sound. She couldn't hold on anymore. Lining up the tip of her strap on with Quinn's entrance, she thrust with one fast, easy stroke. In her hands, Quinn's whole body shuddered. Mack fell back on her knees and let go of Quinn's hands. Placing her own on either side of Quinn's hips, she pulled them to her every time she thrust, pushing herself deeper and deeper inside her girlfriend every time. Quinn's breathing was ragged, and her hands bunched the sheets into her fists, the muscles in her arms straining as she tried to hold on. The pace was furious, desperate without abandon.

A gasp pervaded the air, Quinn's, as she tried to move her body to aid Mack, who realised that she was getting closer to her climax. The blonde bit her lip, both at the slight pain that was emanating from where Mack was pounding into her, and from the desperation of being so close. Mack held off for a little longer, teasing her girlfriend. She knew Quinn - she'd be disappointed if she came right then; she needed a little more working up to it. So she kept thrusting, her body aching with the effort. And when Quinn started to make small whimpering noises in the back of her throat, almost inaudible, Mack knew it was time, so, still holding Quinn's hips up with one hand, she brought the other down and started rubbing furious circles on Quinn's clit with her thumb. A moment later, Quinn was gasping for breath, rearing up off the bed, her orgasm ripping through her. With a smile, Mack pulled out of her and left a light kiss on Quinn's lips.

"Well then," Quinn managed weakly, smiling at Mack.

"I hope I didn't tire you out too much," the dark haired woman chuckled in return.

"Not at all. It was brilliant. As always, of course."

"Of course," Mack grinned, then leant down and kissed Quinn again. "C'mon," she said, throwing Quinn a shirt, "we'd better get started on breakfast."

An hour and a half later, Quinn was off at work, and Mack was trudging a familiar New York street, alone now that she'd dropped Damien off at school. The city around her was buzzing with life, the worker ant citizens rushing to their jobs, tourists walking around in awe, heavy, expensive cameras strapped around their necks, flashing every so often as they stood on a street corner and snapped a photo of them standing on an otherwise nondescript road, the only thing defining it as New York the yellow cabs streaking past in the background. The sun shone down through the buildings, and Mack flitted through alternate patches of sunlight and shadow. She hadn't quite made up her mind about where she wanted to go yet, but it was a perfect morning for writing. Her fingers itched to hold the pen that she always kept in her bag, ready to be whipped out at a moment's notice, when the gears in her mind started waxing poetic. She'd been other things before she'd been a novelist, but writing is what she was meant to be doing with her life.

She decided that outside was a good place to be; it was a great day for it. Hailing a taxi, she ordered it to Times Square. The area was always choked with people, mostly tourists, but being surrounded by the din of life made a good writing atmosphere, Mack found. Besides, it made her feel like a real New Yorker to sit on the red steps, surrounded by the hundreds of Broadway ads and the sound of innumerable passing taxis. It made her forget for a little while that Lima was still ingrained in her bones.

Times Square was busy, as always, but it wasn't congested yet. Mack picked up a coffee from a street level café and then found herself a spot on the brilliant red stairs, so iconic in the small landscape. She sipped the hot liquid out of the steaming styrofoam cup, pen in hand, balancing a small notebook on her knee. She bit the inside of her cheek, thinking about where to begin. Ideas flooded her head all the time, but when it came time to sit and write, they evaporated, leaving her mind a dry well. The pen tapped against the side of the cup, the sound dulled by the liquid inside. At least she could catch some of the early morning sun. It warmed her through her clothes, warding off the cool morning air.

She'd just begun scratching words across her paper when someone plopped down beside her and said hi. Surprised, Mack looked up, and found herself staring at Shelby.

"Oh hey! How are you?" she said, closing her notebook with a snap.

"Good, good. You?"

"Same old," Mack shrugged. Shelby laughed.

"I saw you and thought I'd drop in and say hi. It's been a little while, and honestly, Beth's been asking when Quinn's going to bring you along again. I think she had fun with you two," the older woman smiled. The news came as a surprise to Mack.

"Really? That's so strange, Quinn hasn't mentioned anything about it. We've been busy lately. She's been working, I've been trying to get started on a new novel. It's hard to find time to do a lot of the stuff we should do."

"Yeah, I understand," murmured Shelby. They both turned to face the square again, watching the people milling past. Some hurried by in business suits ranging from black to deep blue, others sported bright coloured shirts and neon shoes. On one side, a busker dressed in nothing but a pair of underpants and a cowboy hat was setting up for the day, as much a part of the landscape as the set of stairs that led to nowhere that Mack and Shelby were sitting on.

Mack tried to observe the people that went past, guessing what was happening in their heads, where they were going, or coming from. What they wanted. What they were afraid of. Whether they'd stop for a man bleeding on the sidewalk, or give money to a hunched over lady with hollow eyes. That's why she liked sitting in a crowded space. The easiest way to draw inspiration was from the people around her, even if she had to make most of them up from the very few things she gleaned in three seconds of observation.

"Hey, listen," Shelby started, placing a hand on Mack's arm, "you should bring your son over sometime to play with Beth. I think it'll be good for them to meet. They're old enough to know what's going on, and I think it's inevitable that they're going to meet at some point, so we may as well get it over with. It might be nice for the two of them to have a friend outside of their schools."

"That's a good idea. I mean, Damien's a bit shy, but I think it'll be good for him to meet someone as outspoken as Beth. She's so strong willed I'm almost scared to think about what she's going to be like when she's a teenager," grinned Mack.

"Oh god, don't remind me. I'm dreading it already. She's a good kid and I've done the best I can with her, but she can be so damn stubborn! When she wants something, she's so set on getting it that she'll bide her time and twist your arm until you get it for her."

Mack laughed. "She sounds like Quinn. At least, Quinn when she was younger. It took her a while to grow out of it, but she did."

"I'm hoping Beth grows out of it before she properly grows into it! Oh, and the trouble she causes. Honestly, I know I raised her, but sometimes it is so glaringly obvious whose daughter she actually is. She could charm the pants of anyone. I didn't even know kids could take so much after their biological parents, but she's so much like Quinn and Noah Puckerman that I'm half convinced she has a psychic connection with them," Shelby motioned with exasperation. Mack gave a half hearted chuckle. She'd wondered about it before, but she knew what Shelby was saying was a figment of her imagination. Kids weren't biologically ingrained to be like their parents - Damien was obvious evidence of that. She was glad that he was nothing like her. And as for his father, well, Mack hadn't thought of him for a long while, but she would place a hefty bet that Damien was nothing like him either, considering what she remembered of him from that one dark night. She pushed the thoughts and unwelcome memories out of her head. The past was better well forgotten.

"Every child is different," she mumbled in response to Shelby.

"Oh yes, that's true. I see it every day. Even in glee club where all the kids are united by their passion for performing, they're all fundamentally different. Look at Quinn and Rachel - they're as different as different could possibly get. But I think that beneath it all, there's a part of them that's irreversibly like their parents. I guess," sighed Shelby, "that when you spend enough time with kids when they're just starting to find themselves, you realise that they're really only finding out how they are, or aren't, different from their parents."

Mack shrugged, uncomfortable in the direction the conversation was going. She tried switching it to a safer topic, though it was one she loathed to bring up. "I saw Rachel the other day. Quinn and I went to one of her performances. We met her girlfriend, Rose. She seems nice."

"Rose is lovely. She's a good match for Rachel. I have to say though, and please, I say this in confidence, but I really didn't realise that Rachel swung that way. I always imagined that she was attracted to men."

Mack blinked, incredulous. Had Shelby been so blind that she hadn't noticed Rachel outrageously flirting with Quinn in her own living room? "Well, people always surprise you," she said softly.

"That they do. Not that I'm saying it's a bad thing for Rachel to be in a relationship with another woman, I just thought it wasn't for her. Rose is absolutely lovely though, and I suspect she keeps Rachel grounded. They're an odd pair, but strangely well suited," Shelby said thoughtfully. "I hope they stay together for a little while. I think Rachel needs to learn how to be part of a couple. She's too absorbed in herself when she's alone. Somehow my ambition and her fathers' sense of self combined in her to make her somewhat narcissistic. This is all off the record, by the way. I don't think she'd be very happy if she heard me saying these things about her. But when we first met, she was this sweet girl, a little misguided, very idealistic, very passionate, and then she came to New York and became this train wreck of self absorption and arrogance. It's hard to be around her sometimes. And I don't want Beth to think that being that way is ok, but I can't forbid Rachel from coming over and seeing her. They are step sisters, after all, in a strange fashion. Oh gosh, I've probably said too much here, but there isn't anyone I can really talk to about her. Quinn will probably get offended, and I certainly can't tell these things to Rachel, and everyone else thinks the sun shines out of her ass," Shelby sighed, kneading her eyes with the heels of her hands. Mack bit her lip. Agreeing silently with someone is different from agreeing out loud with them. If she said the wrong thing now, it could come back to slap her in the face.

"I think you're right about a lot of that, but I think Rachel just doesn't know any better. Like you said, kids try to find themselves in high school and in college. In high school Rachel was this secondary figure, below people like Quinn, and then she got to college where it probably became really obvious that she was superbly talented. It most likely stoked her ego. I don't think she's a bad person," Mack said, surprised at the fact that she believed the words even as she said them, "but I don't think she really knows how to act like an adult yet. I think Rose will help her there."

"Sometimes I think something went horribly wrong, and this is the result. I wanted Rachel around because I believed her to be a good person. Now she's so arrogant it's hard to not want to slap her."

"She'll get better, I know she will. She just hasn't had anyone show her how to not be that way," Mack promised, and believed it. As much as she didn't like the diva, she found it hard to believe that someone could not be redeemed. "Give her time. Rose is a great person. And Rachel, underneath it all, is a good person too. She just needs a little reminding."

"You're right. I know you are. Still, it's hard to remember her as that person when she's constantly throwing her achievements and her belief in herself in your face. I guess I'll have to give it time, like you said," Shelby said resignedly. Mack nodded. How did it turn out that she was defending Rachel? Most of the time she was ready to cleave the woman's head from her shoulders, and now she was promising that she was actually a good person who deserved a second chance. Biting the inside of her cheek again, she realised that maybe it was she who ought to be giving Rachel a second chance. She'd condemned her for so long that the idea of a different, redeemable Rachel was strange, foreign, like an accent she had to get used to hearing.

She looked around at the Broadway posters lining Times Square. One day, she realised with a jolt, Rachel's face would be staring down from them, grinning broadly, the name of some famous show printed along the bottom, five star reviews promising that the production was amazing. If she didn't want to spend the rest of her life avoiding Times Square, she should probably give Rachel Berry another chance. Running a hand through her dark hair, she sighed. It was going to be a long, hard journey. At least Quinn would be proud of her for the decision.

"Hey, how about I talk to Quinn and see whether we can make it to see you and Beth this weekend? We'll bring Damien," she smiled, turning to the older woman. Shelby grinned back.

"That sounds like a plan! Call me," she said, getting to her feet.

"Definitely," Mack agreed, also rising. They shared a brief hug, then Shelby trotted down the now busy stairs, and disappeared into the crowd.

Mack sat back down, and flipped her notebook open again. She stared absently at the few words she'd managed to scribble down. They seemed like they stemmed from a different Mackenzie, not this one who was now sitting in the same place. That whole morning felt like it had happened to a different person, or in an alternate universe. How had that happened? How had Rachel Berry become one of the biggest problems in Mack's life, when a few months ago, the biggest problem was trying to balance work and domesticity. She and Quinn were practically married, and now she was worried about some girl coming in and breaking them up. They'd been through worse, and now Rachel had found someone else, so it shouldn't be a worry anymore. But it was. Emotions weren't like a light switch, you couldn't just turn them on and off according to your whims. Mack was terrified that Rachel still had feelings for Quinn, and that they would re-emerge after she'd lulled the two of them into a sense of security. She tried to push the thoughts out of her mind.

She had to trust Quinn. She _did_ trust Quinn. That's all there was to it, she tried to convince herself. Quinn was not going to fall into the arms of Rachel, and Mack and Damien were not going to be left on their own. Maybe there was hope for Rachel to go back to being a good person. Mack would just have to hold on until that happened. And a good person wouldn't try to steal a woman away from her long term girlfriend. She drew in a long breath and held it for a moment, trying to let the thought sink in. When she exhaled slowly, she willed all her insecurities out with the carbon dioxide. She tried to focus on her writing, but those insecurities fluttered at the edge of her vision, creeping into her thoughts.

Soon her pen moved furiously over the paper as Mack let them into her writing. If she couldn't beat it, she may as well use it.

Looking up from her notebook a couple of hours later, she found that Times Square was full, the area becoming congested with pedestrians and traffic. As she emerged from her writing trance, the sound of them all hit her with full force, and she felt disoriented. She closed her eyes for a few moments, adjusting. Then she scrambled for her phone and dialed Quinn.

"Hey gorgeous," Quinn answered after only two rings.

"You free for lunch?"

"Sure. Where are you? It's really loud."

"Times Square. I was getting some writing done. I want to see you though. I'll meet you at the Red Room in about fifteen?" Mack suggested into the phone line. Quinn paused.

"Make it half an hour. We're wrapping up here, so it'll probably take me about that long before I can get there," she replied.

"Alright. I'll see you soon. Love you."

"Love you!" came the reply before the line went dead. Mack sighed and gathered her things. If she walked slowly, it would take her about half an hour. Besides, she needed to collect her thoughts and come back to reality.


	6. Chapter 6

The Red Room was a café in a quieter part of the city that Quinn and Mack frequented. With dark wooden floors and an entrance through an alleyway, it was niche and quiet, the way the two of them liked it. The top half of the walls were covered in a red wallpaper with a repeated Victorian pattern on them, lending the café its name, while the lower half of the wall was wooden panelling on the back wall, booths on another, and the register and bar opposite them. The way the space veered to the left in an L shape afforded some privacy, and Mack took her and Quinn's regular booth there, which had a window which had a view to a secluded garden for smokers. Mack swirled her spoon around in her coffee, waiting for Quinn. Every time someone came into view, she looked up, hoping she'd see a wide tooth grin and blonde hair. But so far, everyone had just been slouching to the bathrooms which were hidden in the very back corner of the café.

She sighed and sipped her coffee out of its pristine white mug. She was going to wait for Quinn before she ordered, but the cute brunette waitress kept coming and asking if she was ready yet, so she gave in and ordered. Now every tendril of rising steam that tickled her nose smelt a bit like guilt, even though she knew Quinn wouldn't mind her ordering without her. Maybe the fact that the brunette waitress kept sneaking her glances caused the guilt to rumble in her stomach, despite the fact that Mack felt nothing for her. In any case, it was a relief when Quinn finally breezed into the café and slid into the seat opposite Mack, ordering a mocha as she went.

"So, how was work?" Mack asked as Quinn whipped her sunglasses off and lay them on the table.

"The usual. Actually, exciting, as we finished the final touches for the album for that Australian band that we've been working on for months. It's ready to hit the shelves. In a couple of weeks we're hoping to have a number one song off that album, but we'll see. As for the guys, they're ready to start touring, but their manager's not happy. They want to start in Australia, of all places, something about roots. Sentimental, you know?" Quinn rolled her eyes, smiling. Mack chuckled and sipped some more of her coffee as the brunette waitress brought Quinn's, slipping her a flirty smile as she plonked the mug in front of the blonde. Mack nodded to not be rude, as Quinn thanked her.

"I've always wanted to go to Australia," Mack murmured, shrugging. Quinn almost choked on her drink.

"What? Please tell me you're kidding. Did you know every creature there is designed to freaking kill you? Not even kidding. Have you not heard of drop bears?"

Mack rolled her eyes. "Just so you know, there's no such thing as a drop bear. And not everything there is designed to kill you. Besides, I've heard it's a great place. They have beautiful beaches and rainforests and unique animals."

"Yeah, they also have the most venomous snakes and spiders in the world, and waters infested with some sort of poisonous jellyfish. And poisonous octopus. And poisonous fish. Did I mention the most venomous spiders in the world?"

"Yes, you mentioned the venomous spiders," Mack smiled, leaning forward and kissing Quinn lightly on the lips. "But did I mention the tropical fish and colourful coral that's slowly dying because of global warming? Don't you want to see that before it disappears?"

"I'm not really fussed, to be honest," shrugged Quinn, putting her mug to her lips and gulping. Mack swatted at her with the flat of her hand and Quinn put her hands up in surrender.

"One day I'm going to book tickets, and I'm not going to tell you where we're going until we're boarding the plane," Mack threatened, pointing a finger.

"Oh god," Quinn groaned, wrinkling her nose.

"Ah, stop your moanin' and groanin'," the brunette woman demanded, poking the blonde in the arm and grinning. The two of them slipped back into sipping their coffees. The brunette waitress swaggered past, deliberately swinging her hips in time with the soft music floating out from the speakers strung to the ceiling. Mack fought the urge to roll her eyes. Hoping to give the young woman a hint, she grabbed Quinn's hand and started tracing small circles on the back of it with her forefinger. The waitress noticed and stomped back to the counter, snapping at the customer waiting to be served. Quinn was entirely oblivious to the whole affair.

"Hey, do you have any plans for the weekend? I bumped into Shelby earlier and she suggested we drop by with Damien so he and Beth can finally meet. It's been long enough, don't you think?" Mack started, looking at Quinn. The blonde shrugged, nodding.

"It's a good idea. Although Beth might be a bit of a shock to poor Damien's system. He's so quiet, you know, and she's so audacious. I hope they'll get along."

"Damien's quiet, but he's a charmer. I have no doubt Beth will wrap him around her little finger, but he's level headed enough to know to tell her to stop if she tries to push too far. Besides, it'll be good for him to have a friend outside of school."

"True. So, Saturday? Should I call Shelby and let her know we're coming?"

Mack nodded, hope and a dash of fear mingling in her stomach. Her words had come out sounding a lot more confident than she felt. Of course she hoped that the two kids would get along splendidly, but there was a part of her that feared that they wouldn't; they lived on two completely different ends of the personality spectrum, after all. But isn't it said that opposites attract? Kids usually got along well with one another. And Beth was open minded. Surely she'd coax Damien out of his shell with her loud personality. Mack chewed her lip for a moment, and thought that if things didn't work out, at least they didn't have to do it again. They'd managed all that time to go without introducing the two - surely they could continue keeping them apart if they turned out to hate each other. Still, she was hoping they'd get along.

"Stop stressing. They're kids, they'll be fine. Kids don't usually hate each other on instinct," Quinn broke into her thoughts, comforting her in exactly the way she needed. She smiled, sighing to calm her racing thoughts.

"You're right."

Mack swallowed more of her coffee, suppressing a chortle as the waitress shot the pair of them a glare as she walked past to clean a recently abandoned table, three coffee mugs and some napkins sitting on it, the tabletop peppered with grains of sugar. This time Quinn noticed, and frowned, but any words she went to say were shot down by Mack shaking her head at her.

"Don't bother. She was trying to hit on me, and now she realises I'm with you."

Quinn's eyes widened with understanding, then she broke into a wide smile.

"It's because you're gorgeous," she said sweetly, leaning over the table to kiss Mack, who giggled in response.

"Well, I try," she murmured breathlessly.

"No you don't," Quinn growled playfully. Mack grinned.

"Hm, no, I don't."

"Asshole."

"Aw, baby, don't be like that," flirted Mack, feigning hurt. But Quinn crossed her arms and looked the other way, into the small courtyard where a couple of smokers stood with cigarettes hanging from their fingers, streaming smoke. Mack folded her own arms and pouted at the blonde, who resolutely ignored her. The stubborn moment dragged on and on, until Mack found herself genuinely worried. Right up until Quinn turned back to her.

"Gotcha," she grinned, poking her tongue out of her mouth at her girlfriend.

"Bitch," Mack returned, punching Quinn lightly on the arm.

"As long as I'm you're bitch, I'm happy to be called that," she laughed. Mack rolled her eyes but her heart lifted and grew, filling her whole chest with warmth. This was why she loved being with Quinn - this lighthearted fun they could have, teasing and flirting and laughing. Maybe it wasn't always like that, because what serious relationship ever is? But at least they could fall back into their happiness, as though it were a safety net, patiently waiting and forever willing to hold them up. It was the one thing Mack could count on in her life, the only thing she was able to count on for years. Outside of Damien, Quinn was the only thing that could rescue her bad day, even if an infinite number of things could ruin it.

Sometimes Quinn retreated into herself. Sometimes both of them fell into the pattern of a typical introvert, but when it mattered, they pulled through, coming out and making bad days brighter. If Mack had to choose one person to spend her life with all over again, she'd make the same decision; she would always choose Quinn. Quinn who was her muse and her driving force, her balance and her support. Quinn who was patient and loving, and kind and strong. Quinn who would never leave her for another woman, even if it was someone she used to love.

And that was the thing; Rachel crept into Mack's thoughts so often because Quinn used to love her. She'd never admit it now, and she'd only ever mentioned it once, but Mack couldn't forget high school, how Quinn was looking at Rachel, while she was looking at Quinn, and Rachel was mooning over that Finn boy. She was Mack's biggest insecurity because she used to be her biggest threat. It was sometimes hard to consolidate the present with the past, and the fact that things weren't the same now as they used to be then. They'd all come a long way. Sitting here in this café with Quinn was something that a high school Mackenzie Laurence would never have been able to foresee. The fact that it was happening, that it happened on a regular basis was still a shock. She would fight to hold it until she had no breath left in her body.

Suddenly leaning forward, she pulled Quinn by the back of her head into a kiss, long and passionate and representative of everything she couldn't put into words, for fear of sounding inadequate. Quinn hesitated for half a second, taken aback by the suddenness of the kiss, before throwing herself into it, returning the passion in an equal measure as it came. Mack knotted her fingers into the back of Quinn's hair, pulling her closer, kissing her harder, until she had to pull back for lack of air.

"Wow," muttered Quinn groggily and Mack smiled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the brunette waitress standing with her mouth hanging open.


	7. Chapter 7

Damien was gripping Mack's hand as the floor rose beneath them, sending their innards into a temporary turmoil. A worn book of fairytales was gripped to his chest, as if the hard binding and yellowing pages would keep the worms of fear from his chest. Mack stared at his distorted reflection in the metals doors in front of them, sympathising. After all, a few weeks ago she'd been feeling the same things. Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn gazed at them sidelong, a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth.

The elevator pinged and the heavy doors slid open, revealing a familiar corridor. The small family stepped out into it, and with Quinn in the lead, made their way to one of the four doors on that level. A smiling Shelby pulled it open a mere three seconds after Quinn had rapped her knuckles sharply against the wood. Before a word could be uttered, Beth barrelled out of the apartment and into Quinn's arms. Mack smiled to herself, at the same time greeting Shelby, while Quinn took Beth up in her arms and swung her around in a tight circle, eliciting squeals of joy from the girl.

"Hey you," Quinn chuckled, plopping Beth back down on the carpeted floor, "how are you? Been behaving?"

Beth grinned widely in return, then dove into a hug with Mack. When they broke apart, Beth stood to the side, eyeing Damien, who was now clutching the book to his chest with both arms. She smiled at him and he gave a half smile in return. While Quinn and Shelby said their salutations, Mack introduced the two kids.

"Beth, this is Damien, my son," she said, laying a hand lightly on his shoulder, "and this," she continued, turning to address the dark haired boy, "is Beth, mama's biological daughter. And that's her adoptive mother, Shelby."

The two stared at each other, wide eyed, for the space of a single heartbeat, and then Beth broke out into a toothy grin and bounded over to Damien. Tugging him by the sleeve, she dragged him inside the apartment behind her. Mack stifled a chuckle as she watched them disappear into the living room.

"That means you're my brother!" came the high pitched revelation, floating out the door to reach the ears of the three women. They exchanged an amused glance. It was true, in a round about sort of way.

The three adults followed, plonking themselves down on the worn sofa, feeling tall and gangly beside the two small forms whose legs hung freely over the edge of the seat; two pairs of feet, one neatly encased in a pair of sneakers, the others bare and black with dirt. They sat side by side, Damien's book spread open between them, common ground.

Beth jabbed a finger at one of the illustrations. "Who's that?" she asked, peering at the page.

"It's the Little Mermaid," Damien replied seriously.

"She doesn't look like the Little Mermaid in _my_ book," declared Beth, narrowing her eyes at the illustration. Damien shrugged.

"Maybe this artist saw her differently."

The adults sat mute, watching the interaction. Mack subconsciously held her breath. Although she didn't show it, she'd been as anxious about this meeting as Damien had been. It was a relief to see that the two of them had found something in common. The five of them sat in silence for a few more moments, Beth and Damien flicking through the book, reading small portions as they went of the stories, Damien explaining the rest to the blonde girl in a soft voice.

"These stories aren't scary at all!" Beth grimaced as Damien finished his retelling of Cinderella, in which the two step sisters spend the rest of their lives blind, eyes picked out by pigeons for lying to the Prince. Mack raised an eyebrow at the statement, meeting Quinn's eye, an identical expression on her face. "I think Quinn's stories are scarier! Did you know," she continued, turning to Damien, snapping the book between them shut, "that there are monsters living in New York? Quinn told me. And the sound that we hear all the time, it's not just cars and taxis going past, but the sound of the monsters' stomachs grumbling."

"And if we go too close to drain pipes they'll come out and eat us! I know that story too!" Damien returned, wide eyed.

"You told us the same story!" Beth accused, turning to eye Quinn. The blonde woman shrugged.

"Of course I did, it's true."

"What do you think they look like?" Beth asked, her head whipping back to Damien. He bit his lip, thinking. Beth tapped her leg with the palm of her hand, but miraculously remained silent as she waited for the response.

"Well, they can't be too big, because some of the sewers aren't very big, but they can't be too small, or else they'd be coming into our homes through the small water pipes. And they're probably slimy and smell really bad," he mused, wrinkling his nose at the thought. Beth mirrored his expression and shivered.

"I think they have brown and yellow spots," she added, nodding with sincerity.

"And scales!"

"And big teeth!" Beth added to Damien's comment.

"Why don't you two try to draw a picture?" Shelby suggested, gesturing with her head to Beth's bedroom, which doubled as a playroom in the small apartment. The duo jumped up, small feet hitting the floorboards, and thudded into the room, and the immediate sound of pencils and paper hitting the ground followed. The murmur of young voices drifted back to

the lounge room, falling on the ears of the adults.

"Glad that went well," Quinn observed, running a hand through her hair. Mack leant up against her, feeling the warmth of her through her t-shirt.

"Again with the New York monster stories though," Shelby grinned, "now with the two of them believing, we'll never have a moment's peace in this city. Don't make me move back to Lima," she joked.

"Oh, don't worry, I could tell worse stories about that place," Quinn promised, the light tone belying the seriousness in her voice. Mack drew her arm around her girlfriend, drawing her closer, and placed a light kiss on her jawline. She lay her head on her shoulder. Of course there were worse stories to tell of Lima. The place was a hell for all of them, at some point or another, either for different reasons, or the same ones. Mack was glad to be out of there, and she knew Quinn was too.

Chiming in to change the suddenly sullen atmosphere, she said "I wonder what wonderful creations are going to give our kids nightmares this time. I swear if Damien comes in tonight complaining of being scared, you're the one who's going to stay up with him," she threatened Quinn, who raised an eyebrow, but smirked. Mack poked her in the cheek. Quinn only smiled wider and rolled her eyes.

"At least you can share the duty," commiserated Shelby from her place on the lounge. "If Beth wakes up crying and scared, which she'll never admit she does, by the way, there's only me to check under the bed and in the cupboard and behind the curtains to make sure that there's nothing hiding anywhere. No sewer monsters," she finished, narrowing her eyes at Quinn who looked down at her shoes guiltily, smiling slightly.

"I'll try think up a friendly monster next time," she murmured.

Shelby sighed. "At least Beth has an active imagination. I would have been more worried if she was superficial and worried about her looks and what shoes and dress to wear and whether her hair was just right, like some of the girls in her class at school. I swear, kids these days, they're getting older and older by the generation. Soon there'll be kids who never knew what a childhood was. Still, it would be nice if Beth took a little more care of her clothes. I can't even count the number of times I've sewn holes shut in brand new clothes because they got caught while she was trying to climb some fence," the older brunette rolled her eyes.

"Damien is the complete opposite. He likes his things to look new, his clothes pressed and clean and his shoes shiny. He's like a little businessman, but in miniature. Sometimes I wonder whether it's just cleanliness, or whether there's something underlying it. Quinn disagrees with me," Mack shrugged.

"He hasn't got OCD," Quinn said forcefully.

"I didn't say he did, but is it really natural for a child to be that neat?" Mack responded.

"I was," came the retort.

"Kids are different. Some a clean, tidy little beings, and the rest are dirt monsters, like Beth," Shelby smiled.

"I bet you were a dirt monster," Quinn teased, leaning in to close the distance between herself and Mack, created as they had argued about Damien. Mack narrowed her eyes at her partner. "By the way," Quinn continued, turning back to Shelby, "you know you just gave me an idea for my next monster story."

"Oh brilliant. Maybe it'll be scary enough that Beth will avoid soiling her new clothes?" she asked hopefully.

"Maybe. Or maybe not."

"Cruel woman!" came the laugh.

"Careful, or you might never be invited here again," chuckled Mack into Quinn's ear.

"And then what are we going to do?" cried the blonde woman.

"We? What do you mean 'we'?! I said you wouldn't be invited. I'm sure Shelby would love to have Damien and I over again, especially considering how well he and Beth are getting along. I'm sure this is the most quiet she's ever been."

"This is true," Shelby conceded. "It's a little bit strange, to be honest, but I'm sure they're fine. Quiet is rare in this household."

"I can check on them if you like," Mack offered, more than a little bit curious about how her son was getting on with his new playmate. Shelby shrugged as if to say 'go ahead', and Mack pushed herself off the lounge, creeping towards the bedroom at the end of the corridor, where the murmur of the kids' voices was emanating from. They were unusually quiet. The conversation sounded serious.

Hand poised in a fist, ready to knock, Mack paused and listened to the quiet thrum of conversation as it drifted through the slightly ajar door. The voices were low, and Mack's instinct reared its head. Gone were the sounds of playfulness that had been present when the two kids first entered the room. She bit back the worry rising in her chest and listened.

"Some of the kids at school make fun of me sometimes because I've got two moms," she heard Damien's soft, forlorn voice. It was followed by a sound of disgust, presumably from Beth.

"Well they don't know what they're talking about. What's wrong with two moms? I've got two moms too. I've got mom and I've got Quinn. No one ever makes fun of me!" she exclaimed. There was a moment of silence, and Mack strained to hold herself back from bursting into the room, what she was hearing settling in her stomach like a bad acid and making her blood boil. Part of her should have expected some homophobic comments aimed at her son for her and Quinn's relationship, but she never imagined that it would actually happen. Or worse, that Damien would keep it from them.

"But your moms don't hold hands and kiss and sleep in the same bed. Some kids say it's unnatural. That it's wrong and God's gonna send them to hell."

"Don't listen to them," stated Beth resolutely, "they're stupid and they don't know what they're talking about. Obviously they don't know that love can be between any kind of person, not just a boy and a girl."

"It still hurts. I know they're wrong, but it still makes me sad. They're my moms and I love them, and I don't want people to tell me they're wrong. They're not wrong," came the sad sigh from the boy. There was a sound of rustling and then a small "oomph".

"Well you're my brother now, and if anyone says anything bad, I'll smack them on the face," came Beth's muffled voice. Peeking through the crack in the door, Mack saw the two kids hugging. "No one gets to make fun of my family," the blonde girl continued.

"I'm glad you're my sister," Damien whispered, almost inaudibly. Mack had to cock her head to one side to hear the words.

"Me too," Beth replied.

Mack stood there in stunned silence. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she walked, zombie-like, back to the lounge room and collapsed on the couch, vacant eyes staring into space, her mind turning over the things which she had just heard. She didn't even notice that Quinn and Shelby's conversation abruptly stopped when they saw the state she was in. Gingerly, Quinn took Mack's hand.

"Hey, are you alright honey?" she asked, turning Mack's head with her forefinger so that they were eye to eye. Mack shook her head slowly, vaguely, as if she didn't know if that was the true answer. "What happened?" Quinn inquired softly. Mack stared without answering.

"I'm going to get you a glass of water," Shelby announced, and rushed off into the kitchen, the sound of water filling a glass floating back into the lounge. She returned with it and placed it in Mack's hand, then guided it to her mouth. "C'mon, drink up."

Numbly, Mack swallowed the liquid. How could Damien have been bullied and not told anyone about it? That was the only thought in her mind. And guilt crushed her chest. It was her fault. She'd been so ignorant. Of course kids were going to make fun of him because of her and Quinn. It might be New York, but since when were people open minded? It was Lima all over again. It seemed you could leave the city, but you couldn't leave the homophobic attitudes.

"Mackenzie?" Quinn's voice intruded again, shattering her thoughts.

"Damien's been bullied because of us," Mack blurted. She saw Quinn blink, surprised and taken aback. Her head snapped back as if she'd been slapped.

"How do you know? He hasn't said anything about being bullied before. And how do you know it's because we're gay?"

"He was talking about it with Beth, just inside. I overheard them."

"Why didn't he tell us?" Quinn murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Shelby interrupted, "maybe because he didn't want you to feel offended, or to worry about him. He probably doesn't feel that way around Beth, which is why he told her. Kids have that bond sometimes. Should be call them out and have them talk about it with us?"

Quinn nodded. Mack, after a moment, followed suit. Shelby slipped out of the room and a moment later, the two kids padded back in after her, seating themselves on the cough with confused expressions on their faces. Damien sat still, and Beth swung her legs back and forth.

"We have something important we have to talk to you about," Shelby began, and Mack felt tension slowly ebb out of her, knowing that she wouldn't have to be the first one to get the conversation started. The kids nodded, still confused. "It's about what you two were just talking about inside."

"That Damien's my brother?" Beth jumped in quickly, "because he is, and I always wanted a brother and if you try take him away, I'm gonna go live with the fairies in Central Park, I swear."

Mack would have chuckled, had she not been so tightly wound about the serious conversation that was coming. Next to her, Quinn really did let out a small laugh under her breath.

"No, not that. And it's ok, no one is going to take you two away from each other. Well, Damien does have to go home eventually, but you'll see each other again."

"Promise?"

"Promise," smiled Shelby.

"Damien, it's about what those kids at school were saying about you having two moms. We just wanted to know why you didn't tell us," Quinn softly interjected, leaning forward and looking the dark haired boy in the eyes. He looked at his shoes, crossing his arms over his small chest.

"I didn't want you to get mad," he mumbled. Mack felt her heart break in her chest.

"Of course we wouldn't get mad. But they shouldn't be saying those things to you. We still have to know so we can tell your teacher and they can talk to those other kids. You haven't done anything wrong, ok? But I wish you'd told us," she sighed. Still looking at his shoes, Damien shrugged.

"Hey, kiddo, look at me," Quinn said, pulling Damien's attention to her, "if you don't tell us, we can't do anything about it. Those kids are going to be the kind of people who hate your mom and me for the rest of their lives. If you tell us now, we can try getting them to be educated, so that they don't grow up like that. There are always going to be people who don't understand, but that doesn't mean you have to face them all on your own, ok? We're here for you and you can tell us anything."

"Will they get into trouble?" Damien asked.

"Maybe. But we hope not. It's not their fault, they just don't understand. If we can get them to understand that our family isn't wrong, then maybe they'll stop teasing you."

"Yeah! All families look different!" Beth piped up from beside her new brother. Mack nodded at her with a smile.

"That's right, they do."

"Look at us, I have you, my new brother, I have mom, but no dad, I have Quinn, who's my other mom, I have Rachel, my big sister, and I have Mack, my favourite auntie. We don't look like any other family, but we're the best family in the world!"

"Wow, we're more convoluted than I realised," Quinn muttered under her breath, and Mack nudged her in the ribs, holding back her own laugh at Beth's proclamation. It was true; they were a very strange, very twisted family. And Beth was right - they were the best family in the world. They were a family made, rather than born into, the tenuous threads of their existence intertwined tightly with one another. Even, Mack had to grudgingly admit, Rachel Berry.

"Just remember you can talk to us, ok buddy?" Mack smiled at her son. "Now, go on, I'm sure there are more monsters of New York that need faces and multicoloured bodies."

"Like the ones who live in between skyscraper windows?" Damien asked, brightening. Mack smiled and nodded.

"What lives between skyscraper windows?" Beth swung her head to Damien, eyes wide.

"I'll show you!" he pulled her by the hand to her bedroom, the patter of their feet on floorboards making Mack's heart regain some of its warmth.

The three women looked at each other, sighing a collective sigh.


	8. Chapter 8

Maybe the trick was to not follow the recipe exactly, Mack considered, staring at the lumpy mess in the bowl which was supposed to be coming along like cupcake batter. The open cookbook glared up at her, as though she was doing it all wrong. Which she was, if she was being honest with herself, because the batter looked nothing at all like the batter it was supposed to be by this stage in the recipe. She sighed, just as she heard the front door open and the tap of heels across the old wooden floor. A moment later, Quinn appeared in the kitchen, getting herself a beer from the fridge and leaning against the fridge to drink it.

"What's cooking?" she managed after a mouthful of beer. "Or not cooking, by the looks of things."

"I was trying to make cupcakes. Guess that's not going to happen now. This," she gestured at the bowl with her wooden spoon, "is rubbish. It's rubbish. I'm throwing it out."

Quinn shrugged, taking another swig from her bottle. Mack ran a hand through her hair as she dumped the now empty bowl into the sink and realised that she couldn't be bothered washing it. The baking was supposed to calm her down, not make her more stressed. Good job it was doing. Sensing her frustration, Quinn wrapped her arms around Mack from behind, her soft breath tickling the side of Mack's neck.

"C'mon, it's just baking. You know there are a million places in this city you can buy cupcakes. It's no big deal."

"It's not that. I was trying to do something relaxing, and when I was a kid, baking cupcakes with my gran always helped me relax. It was some of the best times I ever had when I was little. Guess gran was the real baker," Mack trailed off, sighing again.

"I bet," Quinn started, placing a kiss on the side of Mack's neck, "that I can think of other ways to help you relax," and even without seeing her, Mack knew the other woman was smirking, even as she punctuated every few words with another kiss. Slowly, her hands unwrapped from around Mack's waist and sat on her hips, Quinn's thumbs rubbing small circles just below the hem of her shirt that made her shiver. Without thinking about it, she relaxed into her girlfriend's touch, and the calm and sense of security which washed through her made her realise that yes, this was helping. This was something she was good at. Maybe the trick was acknowledging that her baking days were over, and that she had other pursuits which could make her happy.

Turning around to face Quinn, she pulled the other woman into a long kiss, the length of their bodies pressing together, languid and familiar. Mack's hands went from gripping the bench, to gripping Quinn's hips and pulling them to meet her own, to kneading Quinn's breasts through the fabric of her shirt. Just as Mack was getting ready to rip the shirt off Quinn's body, Quinn broke the kiss, looking at Mack with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing, you've just got, uh, here," Quinn smirked, trailing a finger down Mack's nose. When she lifted it, Mack saw that it came away white. Still smirking, Quinn ran the tip of her tongue along the length of her own finger, from base to fingertip, her hazel eyes never leaving Mack's. When she popped her finger into her mouth and sucked, Mack felt her stomach turn and the blood rush to her nether regions, her underwear dampening. Fighting the groan of growing sexual tension, she roughly pushed Quinn against the bench, switching their positions.

"Flour," affirmed Quinn with a cocky grin on her face. Mack didn't give her time to draw another breath before she crushed their lips together, tasting the stale coffee and a hint of mint from gum in her girlfriend's mouth, all over her teeth, her tongue. When Quinn tried to pull back, Mack stopped her, biting her lower lip with her own teeth, keeping Quinn close long enough to take a breath, before forcing her back into another kiss. This time Mack dug her blunt fingernails into Quinn's hips, before forcing the fabric up, needing to feel the smooth skin beneath. The other woman pressed herself up against Mack's body, holding her close while they were caught again in another kiss. Mack bit down on Quinn's lip as they broke apart, hard enough to make the blonde woman wince. That didn't deter Mack, and she went to work sucking the pale skin of Quinn's neck between her teeth, leaving angry red marks that she knew would be purple soon enough. With Quinn's fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, Mack wasn't inclined to stop.

Lifting her, she propped Quinn up on the bench with a soft grunt, and flashing a wicked grin at her, resumed her attack with her lips. Only as she went, her fingers, urgent for the feel of more skin, fumbled and tore the shirt right off Quinn. She paused long enough only to pull it roughly backwards, leaving Quinn's shoulders bare, a black bra strap falling, and making Quinn's laboured breathing all the more obvious. With a new field to pockmark with her teeth, Mack dove back into her ministrations. Quinn, her hands finally free of the shirt, grabbed Mack by the jaw and pulled their lips together, crushing Mack's into hers. With a tongue darting out, she could taste the salt of her own skin on her lover, and she instinctively opened her legs wider, before wrapping them around Mack and pulling her even closer, till her clit was rubbing against the belt buckle of Mack's pants. Mack went back to kissing her neck, while Quinn herself buried her face into the crook of Mack's shoulder.

Mack could feel Quinn moving herself over her belt buckle, could feel the fabric of her skirt slowly bunching up, and knew it was time. Fingers curled, she left a trail of red marks up Quinn's pale thighs, and when she reached her girlfriend's underwear, spared only a second in pulling it aside before plunging two fingers in. Quinn's weight shifted, her arms taking it all in relief, but only for a moment, because Mack set a frantic pace, in and out and in and out, biting hard into Quinn's collarbone. The blonde didn't move to shake her off, so she stayed there, knowing it would hurt later, but not caring. Because Quinn had her teeth clenched, her eyes closed and her eyebrows knitted together, and Mack half wanted to stop just to stare at her, at the intensity on her face; the intensity that she was causing. She didn't stop, because Quinn would probably kill her, but she watched her all the while anyway, even when her arm started to burn and Quinn started breathing raggedly.

When she felt Quinn come, her whole body shaking with the built up tension, Mack grinned. She kissed her girlfriend lightly on the mouth, and then calmly walked over to the sink and washed her hands. Maybe baking wasn't the her way of relaxing after all.

"What? I don't get to do the same to you?" Quinn asked, gingerly coming down from the bench. Mack chuckled.

"Nope. I'm all relaxed now. You were right. There are better ways to relax than baking."

"So why all the stress anyway?"

Mack shrugged. There hadn't been a particular reason. Or maybe it had been a lot of reasons, little things which stacked one atop the other until the collective weight of them pressed down on her shoulders and made her stoop.

"Is it Damien being bullied?" Quinn asked, returning to her abandoned beer.

"Maybe," Mack acknowledged.

"It's ok, you know. The school did a session on bullying, and our community, and I think the message probably got across. The teachers are keeping an eye out on those kids giving our son a hard time, and they're going to come down on them if they keep at it. You know that, Mack. You're worrying for nothing," Quinn reassured, coming over and rubbing Mack's shoulders in a gentle massage. Mack relaxed into the touch. She was right, of course. But it wasn't just that which was the problem. Her writing wasn't coming along very well, no matter how hard she tried to get it right; pushing through the haze of mundane surface thoughts was proving to be impossible, and every sentence came out sounding wrong and shallow. She was supposed to have a novel ready to present in three months, and she was only half way through, with no sign of continuing. Writer's block was the worst kind of blankness. She hadn't had a good day since she sat in Times Square.

And then there was Beth's birthday party. Shelby had invited them, and it was supposed to be a small gathering, but that meant Rachel would probably be there too. Despite the fact that Rachel was with Rose, Mack didn't want to face the woman again. She was an irritant, and she always ended a meeting with her feeling like she wanted to rewind her entire life to a point before Rachel became a problem. And then she realised that meant rewinding to middle school, and it left her depressed thinking about it.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Quinn suggested, breaking Mack's reverie. Mack sighed, but agreed. Walking through New York always calmed her down. It had something to do with the millions of people bustling through, and the realisation that each was breathing, in and out, the same air, hearing the same noises of traffic, familiar with the same Manhattan skyline. With the buildings around them, Mack felt like her problems weren't the only problems in the world, that each person in each matchbox of an apartment faced their own too. It was a sobering thought. So they went for a walk.

The sun tried to beat down on them, but was cut off by the tall buildings, shading the streets and leaving most of the city in darkness, with the odd pocket of sunlight. It beat Lima, where there was always sun, and barely a building tall enough to be called a highrise, let alone a skyscraper. Lima, where it was always green, except in winter, where it was always white, the snow blanketing the landscape. On the outskirts of town, where Mack had lived, she could see the hills around them, the skeletal trees, the husks of abandoned farmhouses dotting the landscapes, all of them reduced to greyscale in the white landscape, like she was looking at black and white photographs of them. With the growing chill in the New York air, reaching its icy hands beneath her clothing, Mack was hit with a sudden longing for Lima. She missed the view from her porch on a winter's night. She missed the stars, completely obliterated here by New York's light pollution. She even missed the downtrodden feel of the place. It was where she had dreamed before she learned to turn dreams into reality. It was where she'd penned her first novel that had gone on to sell worldwide.

She was about to open her mouth and voice this strange, newfound feeling to Quinn, but a rather familiar tall figure crossed into their line of view, and paused, recognising them. Rose hurried over to them, smiling a hello.

"If it isn't the only two friends of my ex-girlfriend that I actually liked!" she greeted, "how are you?"

Mack felt her mouth drop open. Ex-girlfriend? Quinn nudged her in the ribs, noticing her expression. Somehow Mack managed to arrange her face into what she hoped was a pleasant smile. But she couldn't rid her mind of the word _ex-girlfriend_.

"What do you mean ex-girlfriend?" she blurted, interrupting Rose and Quinn exchanging pleasantries.

"Oh, Rachel and I weren't quite right for each other, it turns out. We decided to end it before it got too serious," Rose explained, flicking the question away lightly.

"But why? You two seemed very happy the other week," Mack pressed. Rose laughed.

"We were happy the other week. But it turns out we're better off as friends. She's a nuisance to live with, to be honest, and incredibly pretentious. And as much as I love theatre, I cannot live, breathe and dream it every second of every day the way she does, and I didn't appreciate her trying to force me to."

"That's a shame," Quinn said, nudging Mack in the ribs, wordlessly telling her to wipe the glare from her face and shut her slack-jawed mouth. "Does this mean we wont' be seeing you at Beth's birthday. She is Rachel's adopted little sister, after all."

Rose shrugged. "It might be better if we kept family separate. Friends, you know? We're trying to make that work at least."

Mack couldn't help but stare. Rachel was single. Again. The brief security she felt that Quinn was safe from the predatory gazes and lascivious grins of the actress disappeared. She had no doubt that Rachel would waste no time in trying to flirt her way into Quinn's pants again. She'd missed out on her opportunity in high school. Why couldn't she fucking let it go? Quinn was spoken for, and Mack wasn't going to stand for it if Rachel got in the way of them again.

"We should go out again sometime. Of all the people Rachel made me meet, the two of you were by far the most fun. And we won't need Rachel to have fun. I think you guys have that all on your own," Rose grinned, pulling Mack out of her dark thoughts. She couldn't help but laugh. She and Quinn were the most fun people Rachel knew? Well then, that wasn't much of a surprise. She always imagined Rachel being stuck with theatre obsessed crowds who did nothing but debate whether their impromptu version of Defying Gravity was better than the original, or not, and whether the new kid in the production would be able to handle the intense dance numbers that they themselves had been practicing since they were three. Still, it was flattering to hear Rose's compliments. She didn't question them one bit.

"Definitely," she replied, returning the smile. At least one good thing came of the disaster that was Rose and Rachel's relationship. Quinn nodded fervently in agreement.

"We'll find a day!" Rose promised, "but I have to go. Another production I have to stop from falling apart at the seams. Rachel's terrorising it."

She waved as she hurried down the sidewalk, heels clicking. Mack and Quinn exchanged one look and burst out laughing. Neither of them could stop. They were doubled over, right there in the middle of New York, people streaming past, until tears ran down their face.

When they finally caught their breath, Quinn clasped Mack's hand, swinging it between them joyfully. And despite the gnawing paranoia in her chest, Mack felt happy. They glided down the pavement, temporarily untouchable.

**A/N: It's been a hell of a long time since I updated this, and I apologise. I lost interest and motivation. I'll try finish it, but there's probably only going to be a couple more chapters. Thanks for sticking it through. I love you for it.**


	9. Chapter 9

What the hell does one buy a nine year old girl? Mack stared at the rows of pink boxed dolls, all staring and smiling, unmoving. She shivered. They were terrifying, unnerving, _useless_ things. Did little girls really like playing with them? Mack had never grasped the concept of playing with dolls. A tiny fluttering thought danced through her mind - dolls were Quinn's area of expertise. Well, Quinn's childhood self anyway. Maybe Mack should have left the gift buying to her. But here she was, in the toy section of the department store, feeling conspicuously out of place with her knee high motorcycle boots and leather jacket, like she was a punk who'd somehow found herself at a makeover party by mistake and didn't quite know what to do with herself, except run for the nearest exit. Mack fought the urge and took careful steps down the aisle, glancing every so often at the dolls. They all looked the same. She could feel her face creeping into a disgusted expression, so made an effort to keep it neutral.

From the shelf, a petite, too-skinny-to-be-healthy, blonde doll smiled sweetly through a screen of plastic, inviting and friendly. The kind of friend who'd stab you in the back and smile in your face about it, Mack thought to herself, passing the blonde doll over, and checking out the next one, which was exactly the same, except for the clothes. A sigh ripped itself from Mack's chest. Was Beth even into these things? Beth didn't seem like the doll type. She was the rough house type, who'd climb trees and catch butterflies and burn ants up for fun. Well, maybe not the ants, though you could never tell with kids, especially capricious Beth. Mack reached the end of the aisle and wandered over to the next one, filled with the 'boy' toys, action figures and cars and Spiderman masks. She paused and picked up a lightsaber. Somehow she didn't think Shelby would appreciate Beth running through the apartment with a sword to smack things with, though Beth would probably love it. So she left the lightsaber on the shelf, next to the tiny figures of Darth Vader and Obi Wan Kenobi battling invisible enemies.

Nothing seemed right. Beth wasn't the type to play boardgames or logic puzzles or with race cars. Mack left the store empty handed, her chest tight with the stress of not finding anything. She'd have to talk it over with Quinn. She knew Beth better, after all. Squinting at the sudden sunlight, Mack ambled down the street, hands the pockets of her jacket, aimless and dejected. Left, left, left, right, right, the streets quietened somewhat, the flow of people sticking to the main roads, the well known places. Mack had veered off, into a quiet street, a narrow alley. She'd never been there before, but part of her loved the wandering, the random turns and the lost feeling she got in strange places. The alley was mostly graffitied brick walls, but further on, signs hung from the brick, tiny shops tucked away from the New York bustle. Someone burst out of one of them, cradling a brown paper package in his arms. He didn't smile at Mack as he hurried past, but clutched the package tighter. Mack noticed he had strange symbols tattooed onto his fingers. Alchemical signs, she thought. She wandered closer to the store, interested.

The window display was draped in purple fabric that tumbled down and collected in mountainous pools on the floor. A few books on the occult and witchcraft stood propped open at the foot of the display, and above them, dreamcatchers spun slowly from the ceiling. But it was the fairies that caught Mack's eye - ceramic figures of them, regal and glittering, sitting on the table with mischievous smiles. She slunk in through the door and stared around her at the interior of the shop, more filled with books than she thought it would be. The dust in the air made her throat close.

"Can I do anything for you today?" a man asked from the front counter, lifting a hand to scratch his goatee.

"The fairies. In the window," Mack faltered.

"Oh yes. We have a collection of them along this wall. Was there something particular one you were looking for? A statue? A music box? A keyring?" the man asked as he led Mack to the aisle, which, she found, was very well stocked with an assortment of fairies.

"Um," she said, bewildered by the lot. Why was she even looking at fairies? She picked up the figure nearest to her, a small thing, with green wings and a lopsided hat that looked like it should be made from felt, but her finger, running across it, told her it was stone. It grinned at her. Gently, she put it back down on the table that held the collection. She cast her eye over the rest of them, uneasy with the shopkeeper at her shoulder, watching. She ran a finger over a piece with the fairies in a circle, hands clasped to form a ring.

"Oh yes, the fairy ring. An excellent piece of work, and reminiscent of course, of ritual. It is best placed on the coffee table to encourage happiness and family wellbeing," the man explained, but Mack had already moved on, her eye caught on a wooden box, dark mahogany, the lid opened to reveal three fairies suspended in midflight over some pebbles, a small tree behind them.

"And this?" she prompted the shopkeeper.

"A music and jewellery box. Contrary to most music boxes, this one only operates when the button on the side of the box," he indicated to it, "is pressed, rather than when the lid is opened. The fairies rotate in their respective positions."

Mack pressed the button. The grass of the sculpture immediately lit up, illuminating the fairies, and m a smaller light on the tree, which, Mack noticed, had a hole at the bottom, presumably leading to the fairy realm. The fairies turned, as the shopkeeper had said, with music tinkling softly from invisible speakers. Mack reached out and tentatively pulled the draw of the jewellery box from its crystal handle. It slid open without any effort. Mack could smell the heady wood scent of it, and breathed deep to savour it. A smile began to curve her lips. This was it. This was Beth's gift. The Fairies of Central Park was her favourite story from Quinn. She would love the music box. She nodded at the shopkeeper, who gingerly picked it up and took it to the front counter. Mack played with the zipper on her bag while he scrounged around for a box.

"How much?"

"One hundred and twenty five dollars," the shopkeeper replied, and Mack ground her teeth at the price. It definitely was not worth that much. Why didn't she ask about the price before she told him to bring it to the counter? But then, this was her first gift for Beth. It may as well be one that was more expensive, to make up for all the years that the kid's birthday cards said 'from Quinn' instead of 'from Quinn, Mack and Damien'. With a feeling that was almost guilt for spending that amount of money, Mack handed the cash over. The shopkeeper must have sensed something, because he grimaced and pulled out a leatherbound book with blood red stones set into the cover, placing it on top of the box.

"A complimentary Book of Shadows, because you spent over one hundred dollars," he explained at her confused expression. She had no idea what a Book of Shadows was, but she wasn't about to give back the free book. Free things were hard enough to come by as it was in that city. She mumbled her thanks and took the box and the Book of Shadows with her, tucking them under her arm.

The alleyway seemed colder than before, and longer, the tricks her imagination played on her when she was slightly creeped out. And there was definitely something creepy about the tucked away New Age shop with its fairies and Books of Shadows and its purple drapery and its shopkeeper who talked as if he'd grown up in a different century. She hurried back into the familiar New York streets, glad to be away from the place, which had only seemed scary in retrospect. Maybe because she had a little more time to think about its unusualness, without it being flaunted in her face. She shook her head. She didn't need to go back there again, at least. And now she had a gift for Beth. The day seemed brighter for it.

"Mack! Mackenzie!" someone called out to her from behind. Mack turned slowly, recognising the voice, but hoped with every ounce of her soul that she was wrong, that her ears weren't hearing it right. But no. There she was. Rachel Berry, grinning and scurrying in between people to get to her. Whatever brightness the day acquired from buying Beth's gift disappeared.

"Hi! What a coincidence, that we keep running into each other like this," Rachel laughed breathlessly.

"This city's too full of coincidences," Mack muttered under her breath. Rachel didn't seem to hear that. "What are you up to today?" she said a little more loudly.

"Oh, you know how it is. Running from costuming to rehearsal. I'm going to try find a gift for Beth while I've got a minute to spare. It's not really to spare, but it has to be done."

Mack nodded, gripping the package a little more tightly. Whatever Rachel was going to get for Beth, she bet it wasn't a music box with fairies. She suddenly felt a little silly. What if Beth didn't like it? Do nine year olds like music boxes? Would she even have jewellery to keep in it? Mack bit her lip. Well, it was done now.

"I was just walking around. Trying to be inspired," she said to Rachel, who nodded understandingly, her eyes full of sympathy. As if Mack needed sympathy, she thought to herself, her mind turning poisonous against Rachel. She wouldn't understand a thing about writing. All she did was prance around on stage.

"Quinn used to write. In high school," Rachel smiled sadly. "She gave it up. But she was really good. I always thought she should be a writer, like Sylvia Plath, or one of those other writers with a tragic history but who write so hauntingly."

"Sylvia Plath killed herself by sticking her head in an oven," Mack growled. A part of her acknowledged that if things had turned out differently, Quinn just might have gone the same way as Plath. She had damn good reason to, all those years ago, when they were teenagers with little direction and parents that didn't love them the way they always believed parents should. Damn Rachel and her bringing up Quinn's writing. Damn that they agreed on something about Quinn. Mack thought that Quinn should have stuck to it too, though it would have killed her because Quinn was much better at it than her. But Quinn didn't want to. She chose her path. It wasn't for Rachel to judge that, just like it wasn't Mack's.

"I didn't mean the lifestyle, I meant the writing, inspired by the tragedy of her life. And she has had a tragic life. Her high school life, I mean. Obviously it's not tragic now. She's got you and Damien and work and she's happy," Rachel flustered, noticing how her words sounded in the still air between the two of them. Mack forced herself not to glare. She threw joviality around her like a masking cloak.

"Of course! I knew what you meant! But she's all past that now. Like you said, she's happy. The happiest she's probably ever been. But writing wasn't for her, even if she was good at it. Follow your passion, and all that stuff that your little Glee club taught you guys, that's what she's doing."

Rachel nodded. Silence hung between them, deadening the air with awkwardness.

"Well, it was nice seeing you. I have to go, but no doubt I'll see you at Beth's birthday! I can't believe she's nine! Come see another show sometime with Quinn, won't you? I'll let you know when the current one opens!" Rachel grinned, already trotting away, her high heels stabbing the pavement with every step. Mack gave a non committal nod that she hoped passed for interest, relief flooding her chest that Rachel was leaving. Someday she was going to have to get used to the fact that she would keep running into her in New York, but today was not that day. She doubted she ever would get used to running into her. Maybe she would just hate her less. The hatred was tiring, and as she slumped off home, the music box tucked under her arm, she wondered if it ever would fade, or if she was doomed to despise her for as long as she lived.

She was still seething when she stepped into her apartment, clutching the strange Book of Shadows in one hand and the box in her other, fumbling for her keys as her hands lost their grip.

"Whoa! Careful there Spiderman," Quinn slipped her hand under the box that was about to sent one hundred and twenty five dollars worth of wood and ceramic and tiny wires hurtling into pieces across the floor. Her balance regained, Mack placed a quick kiss on her girlfriend's lips.

"Spiderman?" she raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"It was the only thing I could think of off the top of my head," Quinn shrugged, grinning. "I probably should have gone with Doctor Octopus, huh?"

"Your sense of irony is astounding."

"You love it," Quinn laughed, pulling Mack close enough that her breath, brushing Mack's neck, made her skin crawl in needy shivers.

"Mmm, I do," she murmured, running her now free hands up Quinn's side, then down again to play with the hem of her tank top. Quinn kissed her jaw, but stepped back.

"Not now, Mack. I have to go back to work. I just needed to get out of there for a bit. I needed to see you. And you came bearing gifts," she cocked her head to the side slightly, and Mack rolled her eyes. It was like Quinn to ask a question without asking. She explained about Beth's gift. Quinn pried open the box and unwrapped the music box, gasping when the lights turned on and the music began tinkling through the apartment.

"Oh, it's perfect! Beth is going to love it. I knew sending you to buy her something was a good idea!"

Mack watched Quinn, a small smile softening her face as the blonde woman looked over the music box, running a finger over the wood, over the ceramic fairies, their delicate wings, their bright hats, their impossibly thin legs, and she knew something then that she'd always known, but didn't often tell herself: she'd be spending the rest of her life with this woman. If people could belong wholeheartedly to each other, then she belonged to Quinn; the very cells in her body clamored for it to be known, to grip Quinn and kiss her with everything she had. But Mack was content to watch her admiring the music box from a few meters away. For all her traumatic teenage years and her nerdy comic book references and her high flying job, Quinn still harboured a side of her that was a little girl, taken by the simple beauty of music boxes. Mack went and wrapped her arms around her from behind, kissing her neck softly.

"And what's this?" Quinn held up the strange book that the shopkeeper had given Mack. "It's blank. But it's nicely bound."

"The guy at the store gave it to me. He called it a Book of Shadows, or something like that," Mack shrugged.

"You went into a store for witchcraft?" Quinn detached herself from Mack's hug and spun around to face her, an eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"A Book of Shadows is a modern witch's spellbook. You're supposed to fill it in yourself. He thought you were a witch?" Quinn eyed Mack up and down, taking in her motorcycle boots, her leather jacket, the faded grey tank top she was wearing underneath it, and burst out laughing. Mack crossed her arms over her chest defensively. How was she supposed to know what a Book of Shadows was? And there wasn't anything particularly witchy about the shop, apart from the books in the window, maybe, but didn't all New Age stores have that sort of thing, along with semi precious stones and tarot cards?

"Wait," Quinn said, her face straightening, "do I need to start checking the cupboards for weird plants and concoctions and voodoo dolls? Or under the bed or in the closet?"

"Hmph. I'll show you in the closet. Asshole," Mack muttered. Quinn sidled up to her, grinning her lopsided grin. She uncrossed Mack's arms and slid into them.

"If I remember correctly, you've shown me the inside of several closets. And janitor's storerooms. And bathroom cubicles," she murmured in a low voice into Mack's ear, hooking an arm around the back of Mack's neck.

"And if I remember correctly, the bathroom cubicles were always _your_ idea."

Quinn chuckled, and ran her lips down Mack's throat, till, pushing the jacket aside, she came to her pulse point, where she nipped lightly with her teeth. Mack groaned. She felt her breath hitch in her chest.

"I thought you had to go back to work."

"Uh huh."

"Then what are you doing?"

"You know teasing you is my favourite sport," Quinn retorted. Mack rolled her eyes and shoved her off. She picked up the leatherbound Book of Shadows, running a finger over it. The leather was soft, her finger leaving a dent in the cover. Flipping through it, she found the paper was of good quality too. At least that shop didn't give you a terrible free gift, she thought to herself. She still couldn't believe he'd thought her a witch though. What the hell does a witch even look like? She thought back, remembering the man who'd scurried past her, with the alchemical symbols on his fingers. He wore a leather jacket too. She bit her lip. Maybe she _did_ look like a witch. And this book. Well, it was really just a nicely bound notebook, really. She didn't see why they had to give it such a fancy name.

"You know those stories you're always telling the kids? About the monsters and the fairies and whatever else, that live in New York?" Mack turned to Quinn, the blank notebook in her hand. Quinn nodded, frowning. Mack flashed a grin and thrust the book out to her. "Get writing. That's going to be your contribution to Beth's gift."

"But you're the writer!" Quinn protested weakly.

"And you're the story teller. Besides, what else are we going to do with this notebook?"

"Well, we could use it to collect spells to use against Rachel Berry," Quinn smiled slyly.

"Quinn! I always knew you'd be into black magic," Mack laughed.

"That girl's really starting to get on my nerves. I could deal with her flirting with me, if she didn't start appearing at my workplace too, asking for favours. Did you know she came to see me today? She turned up at the studio, pulling me out of my office, away from my job, just to ask me if I knew anyone who could manage sound for a stage production, because their last one left. God, she probably terrorised the poor person. I wanted to slap her in the face," Quinn growled, slumping against the dining table.

"That sneaky bitch. I ran into her today and she didn't breathe a word about seeing you. I can't believe her! Quinn, I know how much you love New York, but I can't stand being in the same city as that woman anymore. She's going to try something with you, I just know it, and I can't keep worrying about it. I trust you, but I don't trust her. I swear to god I'm going to rip her throat out the next time I see her," Mack glowered, all her anger from earlier in the day flooding back to her. Rachel fucking Berry was a problem and becoming larger by the second. All Mack wanted when she moved to New York with Quinn was a simpler life, with less of the drama of Lima, where you couldn't do anything without the whole freaking town finding out about it.

"I'll help you bury the body. I know some people," Quinn's grave reply came. It took Mack a full ten seconds before she realised that her girlfriend was joking. She slouched forward in half hearted relief. "C'mere," Quinn pulled Mack into her. "I know she's a pain in the ass, but New York's home. The good things outweigh the bad. And if she tries anything with me, beyond the flirting, I promise you won't be the one ripping her throat out. Ok? We just need to keep our cool. She isn't a threat to us. To you. I love _you_. I moved to New York with _you_. And you're the one I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. Rachel Berry be damned!"

Mack lay her head on Quinn's chest, and listened to her heartbeat, the steady rhythm, as steady as the woman it resided within. Of course, Quinn was right. Rachel would only be a threat if one of them let her. And their relationship was watertight. She sighed. For better or for worse, Quinn was right.


End file.
